Flower Forevermore
by raggedclause
Summary: Hermione is a powerful Dark Witch, but she's young and untrained. Lucius takes her under his wing, and comes to love and adore her...and ultimately, make her his Queen.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine now, will continue to not be mine long after I finish this story.

A/N: To readers of my previous story, I am sorry to discontinue, but I reread an old favorite fic, and realized I had unknowingly pilfered much of the plot. Too much. So here is a story which is totally my own...enjoy!

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><p>The scream came from behind the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley was full of loud noises and gabbling children, but there was a kind of panic in this sound that made Lucius Malfoy draw his wand and usher his son and wife on home. Once he heard the <em>crack<em> of their Disapparation, he rounded the corner silently, a shadow in the twilight.

He had to blink a few times before he could register the scene before him.

A grown man lay on the cobblestones, surrounded by a pool of blood, most of which seemed to be coming from the wreck of his face. Lucius Malfoy was no stranger to gore and blood...but there was something horribly _wrong_ in the shape of his body, as though his bones had been turned magically to paste and his skin sliced carefully into strips.

It was the figure crouching over his mangled corpse, however, that caused the heart of Lucius Malfoy to freeze.

She-it was, without doubt, female-was slight and narrow, no more than a child of six or seven years, face obscured by a tangle of dark curls. The air around her fizzled with Dark Magic, so much that Lucius' hair crackled with electricity.

He made no sound, and was fairly certain even his heart had ceased to beat...yet all the same, he _knew_ suddenly, fearfully, that the girl was aware of his presence. He stood, rooted to the spot, as she slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

If possible, Lucius was even more shocked.

Despite the predatory stance as she straddled her victim, despite the intense aura of Magic and heat rolling off her in waves, despite the bloody cobblestones beneath her...

She looked terrified. Repentant, even. He saw the soft curved cheeks of a little girl, the guilty worrying of her lower lip with sharp white teeth. Only those eyes told the tale: ancient amber eyes with a depth that would have looked bizarre on a child so young, but for the absolutely overwhelming strangeness of the entire scene.

He still didn't move.

The girl broke the silence, sounding timid, like a child explaining why she had been caught astride her father's broom.

"He...he frightened me. Please don't tell anyone, I didn't mean to! I..."

Lucius kept his voice calm and quiet. "What did he do?"

"I...well, I don't know. He grabbed me like he was going to kidnap me...that's what I thought at first. But then he dragged me back here and squeezed himself against me. I think he was trying to reach under his robes for something in his pocket, but he seemed...not angry or sad...I don't know. Worked up." She peered at him quizzically. "I'm sorry I can't explain more."

"I see," he said, gritting his teeth. He took a moment to still his features into a neutral expression. Lucius knew perfectly well what the man had been up to-dirty pedophile-he hated the lot of them. "Did he hurt you?"

The girl stood carefully and wrapped her thin arms around herself protectively. "No."

Lucius removed his cloak slowly, not wanting to frighten her even more, and held it out to her. She made no move to take it.

"I'm sorry he frightened you. That was a bad thing to do, wasn't it?"

She shrugged and trained those strange eyes on him, fear and trust existing side by side.

He tried a soft smile. "I won't hurt hurt you, child. What's your name?"

The girl watched him warily. "Hermione."

"A beautiful name," he said, smiling again. "Shakespeare, isn't it?"

She nodded, shivering in the evening chill.

"Go on, Hermione. You look cold-won't you put this on?"

Finally she approached him, hesitantly reaching a tiny hand to grasp the proffered cloak shyly. "Thanks." She swung the heavy material about her skinny shoulders. "You dress funny. Everyone in this world does."

Again, he was taken aback. This world? Dressed funny? She couldn't be a filthy Muggle...no matter. She needed help. "Where are your parents?"

"In one of the jewelery shops, I think." She eyed her surroundings uncertainly. "What is this place? I don't remember these buildings...How did I come here?"

A Muggle born, then. But obviously a Magic child, one with a great Dark power inside her. He waved his wand, clearing the bloodied street and Vanishing the corpse. She cast him a curious glance, but was still too young to marvel at the sight of magic performed so casually.

He held out a hand. "Come. I'll help you find them."

When her cold fingers touched his, Lucius felt a jolt run through him. Definitely a Magic child.

He guided her into the Muggle world with an odd light-headedness. He was brimming with questions. Who in the world was she? Even if the people who raised her were Muggles, her true lineage had to be from a Magical bloodline. One didn't possess Dark Magic without purity and wizarding ancestors.

But she was a child still, and he needed to be sure of her. He would have to keep an eye on the girl, yet take care not to frighten her off.

Warming her small fingers in his hand, he glanced sideways at her.

"What happened to the bad man? Before I found you."

She stiffened, though he was relieved to note she did not pull her hand away. "I told you. I don't know."

"Ah," Lucius nodded companionably. "Sometimes when I'm afraid, it's hard to remember things. But he's gone now, and as I told you, I shall not harm you. You have nothing to fear from me, Hermione."

"He...whatever he was doing, I didn't like." She cast uncertain eyes at him. "And I wanted him to stop, I begged him...but he didn't. I felt so _angry_."

"I would be, too."

She balled up her free hand. "I couldn't help it. A red fog sort of came over me. I just wanted him to leave me alone. That's all I remember, and then you found me."

Now the girl's amber eyes were full on him, challenging, afraid. Lucius stopped and knelt to her level.

"You did what you had to, Hermione. I think you were very brave. Listen to me, now."

He took her chin in his hand and searched her eyes. "You have a very special power. I don't mind it, but the others in this world, and even some in mine, will fear it. Do you understand?"

"I think so. Even Mom and Daddy?"

He took a breath. "Even them."

She processed the information, brow slightly furrowed. "What should I do, then?"

"I can help you, if you like. Until you're older, then you can be trained properly with your gift."

"Will you train me then?"

"I might. And others as well. For now, Hermione, I want you to keep silent about this. Just between us, alright?"

He was surprised by her sudden grin. "Like a secret?"

Lucius smiled back. "Our own secret, little one. Now, aren't those people your parents?" He gestured at the harried couple who were speaking frantically with a store owner a short distance off.

"Daddy!" The girl turned to him quickly. "I don't know your name."

"I'll find you. Stay safe."

She half-turned, already running to her parents. "Thank you! Good bye!"

Lucius waved and watched her safely off.

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><p>Night was deep by the time he returned home. He went immediately to his chambers and found his wife half asleep. "Lucius! you're alright..." she murmured.<p>

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Lucius replied, kissing her cheek. "Sleep now."

She rolled over and sighed. "Night, Lu."

He made his way to his study, and sat there in thought for long hours. Who was this girl? Why did she affect him so? Could she be a Dark Witch rising? Lucius paced agitatedly. He only knew his own magic had cried out to join with hers like a caged bird to feel the wind.

Then, when the first fingers of dawn began to steal into the windows, Lucius went to his Pensieve and filled it.

He had to protect her, teach her, guide her.

She had to be his.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the wonderful comments! Here's another chapter for you, my dear readers :-P

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><p>"Severus! Do come in at once. Teasby, his cloak."<p>

Lucius watched the house elf dutifully accept the garment, and Disapparate. Severus Snape, an old friend and one of the few he trusted implicitly. Perhaps the only one.

Severus glowered at his host. "Good to see you, Lucius. How are things at the Ministry?" He followed Lucius to the solar.

"So-so. Fudge still mistrusts me, though I do believe he'll come round soon enough. Hogwarts?"

Severus sat down heavily, resting an elbow on the fine leather armrest. "You know Albus. Now school's almost back in session, he's making us hand in the year's curriculum with notes and graphs and charts...trying to shove sweets down our throats at every turn...I swear he'll make me go mad, Lucius."

He bit back a smile. "You love him."

"Like a father. Great-grandfather, really," Severus amended dryly. "But I really don't like the man."

"Sort of the opposite of forced marriages," Lucius commented. "For example, Narcissa and I like each other very much. And we both love our son." He grimaced. "But falling in love? Not a thing for wizards in our society."

Severus glared back at him, nodding.

Teasby _cracked_ in, wheeling up a tea cart laden with pitchers of iced tea, hot tea, and little tomato sandwiches. "Can Teasby be getting the masters anything else?" She squeaked.

"Thank you, Teasby. That will be all." Lucius waved a curt dismissal.

Severus leaned in to pluck a sandwich round from the tray, holding it delicately with long thin fingers. "Now. What is it you are so keen on telling me, Lucius?" He caught the other man's expression of shock. "Really now, I am the most gifted Legilimens in the world. And you're broadcasting your excitement like a street vendor. You can never keep a secret from me, old friend." He took a huge bite smugly.

Lucius smiled ruefully. "Too true, Severus Snape. You always were too clever. Very well."

Once he had related the story of his meeting with the girl the night before, Lucius fell silent. He wanted to give Severus time to think. it was, after all, a lot to take in.

The man was impassive for long moments, gaze fixed somewhere on the bookshelves behind Lucius. At length, he spoke carefully. "Sounds like quite an experience. You're certain of her, Lucius?"

"As much as anyone can be. Severus, Dark Magic was roiling off her. I've _never_ felt so much, except perhaps in the late Dark Lord."

Severus turned sharp eyes on him. "Extraordinary, indeed." He sighed heavily. "And she still a child..." He trailed off, looking significantly at the other man. "The Dark Lord will come back. And he will hate her."

"I had hoped it was possible that he's gone for good? No?" Lucius frowned as Severus shook his head. "I know. What do you suppose should be done with her?"

"We wait," Severus said firmly. "We watch. If this girl is as powerful as you say, she'll need guidance. You can give that to her. Train her well, Lucius. And when the time comes, we can decide what to do about the Dark Lord."

"I never want to return to those days."

Severus shared a shiver of disgust. "Nor do I. Few do."

"Enough still pray for his return. We must be careful, Severus. We have to hide her, teach her to hide herself."

He nodded. "We can create a mask identity. I'll begin planning now, and consult you at every turn."

"Gratitude, Severus. I am always thankful for your help."

Severus rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment. "And we should research this, too. It is unlike any case I've read about...you say she's a Muggle born?"

"No," Lucius said quickly. "She's being raised by them, but it's impossible that they're her biological parents."

"Your obstinate dislike for them can cloud your judgment, Lucius." Severus hid an amused look that threatened to quirk his lips. "She could very well be Muggle born."

Lucius wrinkled his nose.

"Oh very well," Severus amended. "It certainly doesn't seem likely. But I don't want you to change your opinion about her if she is."

He sighed. "I don't want to either. She is far too valuable."

"Merlin help the girl if you're right about her."

"The gods protect _us_ when it's time." Lucius answered darkly.

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><p>Lucius waited a few days before contacting the girl. It had been a simple matter to locate her, even in a filthy Muggle neighborhood. If truth be told, however, Lucius wasn't as concerned about the matter as he'd led Severus to believe. With that much Dark power, Lucius would follow her to Hell and back, Pureblood or no.<p>

Her home was nice enough, comfortable-looking, with a straight white fence and small pleasant garden. Lucius cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, then walked around the house until he reach the backyard, which had late summer flowers growing and well-trimmed grasses. Perfect for gentle training.

He removed his outer robes, laying them neatly on the grass. He sat down, crossing his legs, and opened his mind. Looking inside himself, he found the silvery strands of Dark Magic within him, welling from his inner core. He called one strand and sent it gently to the girl he knew was playing quietly within her room.

He didn't have long to wait.

One of the windows opened from what he supposed was the attic, and he caught a glimpse of wide eyes peering from beneath a mop of brown hair. Lucius had purposefully retained the charm disguising him from the rest of the world...yet, as predicted, Hermione saw right through it.

_Coming_, she whispered, though how he heard her speak, he knew not.

Grasping the window ledge lightly for balance, she climbed out of the window. Lucius frowned. What was she doing? Before he could raise a hand against it, the little girl slid cleanly down the roof and dropped a good three stories out of sight.

His careful calm forgotten, Lucius strode over as quickly as he could. But when he rounded the corner, Lucius found Hermione standing smiling, examining a branch of flowers from her mothers garden that she had seemingly just plucked.

Lucius had heard, of course, of child witches and wizards who had, through necessity, conducted magic to avoid danger. That was common enough. Still dangerous, though.

"Hermione! Are you alright? What were you thinking, jumping off the roof?"

She turned, obviously surprised. "What do you mean? Didn't you call me?"

Squashing the annoyance he felt at her clear lack of concern for her own safety, Lucius steadied his voice. "Don't you know better than to fool around like that? Magic doesn't always save you twice. What did you think would happen?"

"I thought I'd land on my feet, like always. I'm sorry, sir...I didn't know it was wrong."

He gaped for a moment. But her confusion seemed sincere enough, and silvery tears threatened to fall. Lucius sighed, over his initial shock. She was acting like that was a normal exit for her...and, for all he knew, it was. He shouldn't rebuke her for doing something she didn't know was dangerous.

"Come here, it's alright. I thought you might have injured yourself. You must be careful, or you'll frighten me."

Her hurt forgotten, the child approached him apologetically and touched his arm. "I'm fine," she assured him. "I know my parents don't like when I do things like that, but...well, you said you understood my...my gift."

"Ah," said Lucius, mind racing. So she did know it was...unusual. But her reminder was useful. He needed to act like her level of control was perfectly normal, or else the girl might be afraid or try to conceal her power. "Yes. Sometimes Magic children do things like that."

That wasn't entirely a lie.

Shyly, she offered the flowers to him. "Fairy flowers,"

Lucius accepted with a formal bow. "Fairy flowers?" She was giving him flowers? No one ever gave flowers to a man, and never so casually. They looked like bleeding hearts to him. But, he thought with a sudden uncharacteristic rush of emotion, he would call them whatever she wished.

Hermione giggled. "I always see little fairies flying about them," she tilted her head. "They might bring you good luck."

She saw fairies? _Fairies_? Merlin's beard!

Lucius smiled calmly at her. "My thanks, little one."

She nodded. "Thanks for coming to teach me."

He appraised the girl curiously. She looked different in the sunlight, less unnervingly powerful. A sunburn was just beginning to peel on her shoulders; she smelled of coconut and honey. A child once more, probably the age of his own son. A child who had just shyly offered him the first flowers he'd ever received. "Well then." he said, walking back to his spot beneath the shade.

"Well then," Hermione echoed, following. "What are we doing today?"

Lucius shot a mysterious smile at her, waggling his brows.

She laughed delightedly at his silliness. "_And_ you still haven't told me your name, sir." She added pointedly.

He couldn't help but match her smile. "Lucius. Call me Lucius. We'll start with something easy, I promise."

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><p>"Try again," said Lucius, baffled.<p>

They were still sitting on his robes, and Lucius had been attempting for the last hour to get Hermione to perform simple spells. So far, she had shown no inclination whatsoever to fulfilling any of his expectations.

She looked at the feather she was supposed to be floating. "I'm doing everything you told me!" Hermione cried, petulance rising. "I swear. I can't make it move with this spell."

"Stop," Lucius commanded. "Still your mind. You have to concentrate only on the feather and what you want to do with it."

"I _am_ concentrating!"

He sighed. This wasn't working. Perhaps the girl didn't have the Gift after all. Had he gotten his hopes up for nothing?

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. We'll try something else. Let's take a break for now."

She looked at him hopefully. "Can we get a snack?"

"Go on," he said, gesturing to the house. "Why don't you bring out something for us to eat. And while you're in, how about you get a game you like to play too?"

He was rewarded with a grin. "Will do!" Perhaps if she relaxed a bit, the Magic would come out.

Lucius watched her disappear into the house. He couldn't have been wrong about her...the power he'd felt was undeniable. But something was stopping her performance. What was it?

She returned a few moments later with a plate of crackers and stacking cups with a jug of lemonade clutched awkwardly in her small hands. "Can you take all this? I want to get the baseball stuff."

Baseball stuff? What was she referring to? Ah...some Muggle pastime, likely. Lucius accepted the food and drink, settling it comfortably in the grass. Then he waited to see what she would do.

He didn't have long. He saw her skipping back to him with a long heavy metallic object in her hands, and a small ball.

What was he doing? Lucius had never before deigned to set foot in a Muggle neighborhood, and now here he was at the whim of a child, about to engage in the most ridiculous-looking game he'd ever seen.

But when he saw Hermione's delighted features peering up at him, Lucius found himself softening. What harm in one game? Besides, perhaps he would have more time to learn about the girl.

"How do you play?"

She pressed the ball into his fingers, then began striding away a short distance. "We don't have enough players for a real game, we'd need teams. But you can throw the ball at me, and I'll try to hit it with this bat." She peered at him intensely. "Begin."

Lucius stared at her incredulously. What if he threw the ball and it hit her in the face? How did she expect to lift that bat, much less swing it? She wasn't even eight years old!

She must have noticed his reluctance, because a stubborn expression crossed her childish features. "Go on. Throw!"

"Aren't you worried about getting hurt? How will you hit the ball-"

"Just do it!" Hermione snapped.

He took a breath. Her eyes had taken on a sudden ferocity that made him realize she wasn't going to let up. Well...perhaps if he was very gentle...

Lucius threw, as softly as he could manage. His aim was true, but the ball fell short a few feet. Hermione quirked her eyebrow at him. "You're going to have to throw a lot harder than that. She reached forward and tossed the ball easily back to him. "Again."

This time, Lucius pitched a reasonably good ball. As if in slow motion, he watched the little girl swing the heavy bat, hitting the ball solidly with a loud _thunk_.

It sped straight towards his face.

He was so taken aback that he didn't have time to do more than throw a hand up to shield himself-but suddenly, inches before the baseball struck his nose, it froze in midair.

He stared.

Then Hermione was running to him and touching his arm apologetically, all soft hands and wide eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I had no idea the ball would go that fast-are you alright?"

Lucius, to his surprise, found he was very much alright, though in deep shock. The ball still hung in the air.

"It's quite alright, Hermione. You said it was an accident-"

"But it's my fault!" Hermione wailed. "Daddy said I couldn't play, I was too little, but I wanted to so much-"

"You've never played before? How did you-"

She hung her head. "Daddy keeps the equipment here so he can play with my cousins when they come over. I've been watching them, and it looked like fun..."

Lucius remembered that he needed to breathe. "How did you stop the ball, Hermione?"

She looked blank for a moment. "I...I dunno. I just sort of wanted it to."

He nodded, trying to appear calm. "I mean, what spell did you use? How did you react so quickly?"

Once she got over her guilt at nearly injuring him, and seeing that he was indeed fine, Hermione perked up considerably. "No spell-they don't work for me, remember? I just wanted time to stop for the ball...and so it did." She eyed him uncertainly. "Are you mad I didn't try to do what you taught me?"

Lucius counted to ten in his mind. She didn't need to use spells? What was she? He cleared his throat. "Of course not," he said lightly. "Just surprised. Lots of witches need spells...but I did say you were gifted. So...if I told you I wanted you to make the feather fly towards me, what would you do?"

Hermione shrugged. "This." And before he knew it, the feather had zoomed happily from it's position by the crackers into his shaking hand.

Merlin's pants. This was going to be an interesting day.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: A gargantuan thanks to people who left comments...you make my week! Sorry about the long wait, here's an extra long chapter to make up for it.

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><p>A fresh cool breeze stirred the trees around the balcony patio of Malfoy Manor where Lucius sat eating a quiet, pleasant dinner with his family. His mind, as ever, drifted to the young girl he had taken under his wing. Her magic was untamed, coming whenever desire struck her; learning it in the normal manner proved extraordinarily difficult for her.<p>

It wouldn't do at Hogwarts.

Lucius wiped his mouth delicately with a napkin. So much planning was involved...he had to be so careful. Perhaps he should involve Severus more...

"How are the oysters?"

His wife.

"Delicious, my dear. You know I love seafood." He sighed, smiling at his son. "How was Diagon Alley?"

Narcissa rested her hand warmly on Draco's shoulder. "We had a fine time today, didn't we Draco?"

"Crabbe's father bought him the Hand of Glory," he said scowling. "Why won't you let me have one?"

"Because I trust you will eventually amount more to a petty thief," Lucius answered coolly. "Wouldn't you agree, Son?"

Draco glared at the table.

"Son?"

He heaved a boyish sigh. "Yes, Father. I understand. I just don't see why Crabbe can have one and I can't."

Lucius pushed aside his plate and rested his folded hands on the table. "Crabbe's father knows what's best for his son. But you are a Malfoy, one of the most ancient Pureblood lines in the world. You were born into greatness, Draco. I want to see you live to your full potential."

"Yes, Father." Draco's voice was sullen. "May I be excused?"

"You may." Lucius smiled tightly at his wife. "Me as well? Lots of business to attend to."

She nodded. "Good night, darling."

He kissed Narcissa, rose smoothly, and left for his study, robes trailing in his wake.

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><p>As the right hand of the former Dark Lord, certain duties were expected of Lucius Malfoy. He now resided over the Ordo Aurorae Novae, the Order of the New Dawn, an ancient wizarding society whose aim had chiefly been the study of Dark Magic. After centuries, however, it had morphed into the highest order of honor in all of Europe. Many of Lucius' closest companions-Severus included-were prominent figures within OAN.<p>

Lucius Malfoy's business, as head of the organization, mainly involved the oversight of education of Magic youths and supporting the alchemists and mages who sought knowledge for the betterment of their kind. It also meant that wizards and witches across the continent and even overseas looked to him for guidance and aid. It was an extreme honor, and called for duties Lucius was glad to perform...but it did become tiring.

As always, his chancellor Abelard Norfolk had laid the day's agenda on the massive oaken table in Lucius' study. Today he had some disputes to settle and a few bills to examine for approval. Lucius sighed.

Perhaps he should go see Hermione instead? He could write off the time as part of his Order duties...but no. Lucius dismissed the thought quickly: his place now was here in his office. _Solem ferre possum_. The words of the Malfoy family; his father had taught him to honor them all his life. _I can bear the sun_. Lucius carded his fingers wearily through his hair and began his work.

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><p>Over the next weeks Lucius and Severus developed a strategy for the following years. Lucius, with an eye to her full potential, would begin working with Hermione on developing control. When they had mastered a little more Magic, he'd condition her until her endurance level could be discerned, and her willingness to work hard. When she was a little older, Severus would take over the bulk of her training, being more adept at explaining concepts in a way that children could easily respond to. He would also begin teaching her to hide her tremendous skills and develop a new identity.<p>

They still had a few years before Hermione was to attend Hogwarts. They had time enough, Severus informed Lucius, to build a relationship with the girl and be present for her formative years. As her professor, Severus would have the opportunity to get closer still.

He continued to meet with Hermione, usually for no more than a couple hours at a time. He didn't want the girl's parents to grow suspicious, though he had sworn Hermione to absolute secrecy. And for some reason, he trusted this flighty, peculiar, enigmatic creature.

Her powers were astounding. Everything came as naturally to her as breathing. He discovered her paradoxical nature, too...she was in turns reckless or uncertain, impudent or docile, silly or bewilderingly wise. Though Lucius knew she was an unusually precocious child, he saw no hint of arrogance in her, no trace of unkindness. She was also a mischievous little elf: he began to realize her seeming obedience was a convenient cover for all the trouble she got into. She'd look him straight in the eye as he gave her instructions...and then she'd go out and do her own thing.

Far from an unwilling participant in her little games, Lucius found himself indulging her more and more. How could he refuse, when she gave him that blinding, delighted smile?

Things were progressing well, for the most part, hindered only by Hermione's enrollment at school. Predictably, she breezed through the work there at a tremendous rate, so they always had plenty of time for lessons. Lucius was becoming far more attached to the girl than he'd intended...and possessive, too. It wasn't until a letter from Severus that he realized how many secrets his young charge had been keeping.

_Lucius:_

_I don't know what you're teaching Hermione these days, but you'd better let me in. I was in my Hogwarts study, taking a nap and enjoying some peace and quiet when your little elf DREAM WALKED WITH ME and then proceeded to MATERIALIZE IN MY CHAMBERS. _

_Does she know how dangerous that is? Forget that. Does she know how IMPOSSIBLE that is? Especially at HOGWARTS, of all places?  
><em>

_You told me you were teaching her mastery of star lore and how to ride a broom. Here I am thinking things are progressing nicely and she's developing a touch of control. And then I'm confronted with a REALM-DANCING CHILD who's decided that I-and I quote-am as "CUDDLY INSIDE AS THOSE NICE CENTAURS I PLAYED WITH THE OTHER DAY"! Oh, my friend, you have explaining to do._

_I am NOT pleased and decidedly NOT CUDDLY._

_Severus  
><em>

Lucius swallowed.

Should he laugh or cry? He'd come to expect the unexpected from Hermione Granger, but to be honest, realm dancers were supposed to be a myth. What was this child? On the other hand, he had grown accustomed to her strange ways over a reasonable period of time. Imagining Severus Snape's reaction to her when confronted with something like this all at once was, quite frankly, hilarious.

He penned a reply.

_My Dear Severus,_

_Please believe that I was just as unaware of these interesting talents as you were, though, I admit, I'm not as shocked. I told you we were dealing with something far beyond us, Severus...some inhuman power. We must be careful not to alienate her.  
><em>

_My dear Severus, you ought to know I can see straight through your complaining: you liked her. Go on, tell me of your encounter. Why don't you come over for lunch? I think it's apple and brie sandwiches, which I happen to know you like._

_Lucius_

He sent the letter off with Hadrian, his eagle owl, and settled down comfortably in his study to review some notes he'd made after his last lesson with the girl. They'd played baseball again, but on brooms. Hermione had hated it; she'd said the broom had a mind of it's own, and she'd much prefer to fly without it.

It seemed perfectly normal to Lucius, after hearing about her little episode with Severus, that his Hermione could fly without requiring a broom.

He chuckled.

After his eyes fell upon the large stack of documents still needing his perusal and approval, Lucius stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. He'd worked diligently for the whole morning; perhaps a nice noon ride was in order. He checked the clock: it was just before twelve, which meant he only would have time for a short ride before Severus might show up. Best go later...or perhaps Severus would join him and they could picnic. If Severus decided to forgive him.

Dropping his quill, Lucius stood and stretched his muscles before summoning an elf to prepare a light meal for them to take in baskets. Brie and apple sandwiches, as promised, as well as hard-boiled eggs, raspberries from the Malfoy gardens, and a flask of tart damson wine.

By the time Severus arrived in his usual black mood, Lucius had saddled two horses, his own Arabian white, and a black Friesian whom Severus generally favored. He waited silently, reins in hand, as Severus billowed over to him and glared at the horses.

He sniffed finally and accepted the reins, mounting gracefully as an elf. "Good idea, Lucius. Let's get a decent ride in before we stop for lunch." Without waiting for an answer, Severus kicked his horse into a full charge and sped off like thunder.

Lucius was accustomed to these bizarre moods of his friend. He nodded to empty air, still not speaking, mounted his Arabian, and galloped after him.

* * *

><p>Lucius watched Severus dip his sandwich into the damson wine and grimaced. They'd ran full speed for a good couple hours before Severus had finally slowed his horse to a trot and turned to glance questioningly at his companion. Lucius had responded by halting his Arabian at a shady spot beneath the trees, and setting out the meal.<p>

At length, Severus broke the silence.

"She's a peculiar little thing, Lucius."

"I know."

"But you were right about her power. Merlin."

"Indeed."

"Does she even begin to understand? I don't even know what to do with her, but we just can't let her roam around through the realms like that."

"True."

Severus tossed him a half-hearted scowl. "You're not saying much."

"I know," Lucius smirked, and tore off a giant bite of sandwich. When Severus didn't answer, Lucius sighed. He'd have to be careful about this...Severus was an ally he couldn't afford to lose. He swallowed the bit of apple and brie before continuing. "Severus...please believe I had no knowledge of her realm jumping. I'd have told you at once, you know. We're in this together." He looked earnestly into his friend's black eyes until the other man sighed.

Severus wrinkled his nose, seemingly mollified. "Well, don't you want to know about our meeting?"

Lucius smiled. "Yes, I would."

"Let me show you." Severus reached beneath his cloak and retrieved a pocket-pensieve. He uncorked a small vial, sent Lucius a significant look, and poured it into the bowl.

Lucius masked his surprise and waited quietly for him to finish. This was entirely unusual for Severus...he was a very private man, and sharing memories in this manner was difficult for everyone. Lucius understood the gravity of the situation at once...Hermione must have made an especial impression.

When Severus gestured, Lucius bent his head to the bowl as the other man did, waiting for the memory to sweep over him.

_Severus was curled in his favorite armchair with a Potions magazine and a cup of hot fragrant tea. The steam began to relax him...gradually his eyes closed and the magazine fell gently in his lap._

_Dreams were scattered and shifting; Severus was not yet fully asleep. He was dimly aware of a forest landscape, the sound of wind, a stray scampering squirrel. Suddenly, an image took gentle shape before him: a very young girl with wild hair and bare feet. She wore a simple green sundress, and was clearly investigating her surroundings._

_She turned when she sharpened fully into view, as though she sensed Severus the moment he got a good look at her._

_In his dream state, Severus was clearly far less of a grump. He gazed mildly at the girl, watching her as she appraised him intently. Neither moved.  
><em>

_"Who are you?" He called._

_She suddenly broke into a blinding smile. "Hermione. I'm Hermione Granger. Lucius is my teacher."_

_He was curious. "He's mentioned me?"_

_"No," she answered easily. "But I know he likes you."_

_Awake, Severus would have demanded real answers. Now, he simply nodded, accepting the connection. They continued to look at each other. _

_The girl tilted her head. "You're taller than I thought. What were you reading?"  
><em>

_"A Potions manual. Sleeping draughts, pepper-ups. Nothing too interesting."_

_"Potions?" The girl smiled again. "I've been wanting to try my hand at one of those." She walked slowly towards him. "You love Potions, don't you? Then I'd like to learn, if you'll teach me."_

_Severus was shocked into a small smile. Students, even if they were interested by Potions, rarely wanted his help._

_"If you like," he answered lightly. He suddenly frowned: he could feel his dream state lifting. "I have to go."_

_Hermione blinked, bewildered. "I'll come with you." A painful thought abruptly creased her brow and she faltered. "Oh! You-you'd rather not talk to me? Can I stop by later, or are you busy?" She lowered her eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry for bursting in on you. I'm generally not this rude-"_

_Severus, despite his instinctive reluctance to be social, was completely charmed. He was quick to reassure her. "Of course I want to get to know you. But I think-I think I'm waking up."_

_"Oh," said Hermione, nodding slowly. Severus could still see lines of confusion on her brow. Then she asked timidly, "May I come with you, then?"_

_He was beginning to realize the strangeness of the conversation. She wanted to come with him? Was she more than a dream? What was she thinking?  
><em>

_Severus felt himself slipping further and further from the dream realm. If he wanted to find out..."Yes. By all means," he said cautiously.  
><em>

_Hermione beamed. She held out her hand to him, obviously expecting him to take it._

_Severus hesitated._

_His fingers reached out, faltered, then brushed hers._

_She smiled into his face, wrapped her small hand around his fingers. "Let's go."_

_She took a step, her other hand outstretched before her as though feeling for something. Severus observed with rapt attention. Hermione bit her lip, frowning slightly. "I can never remember which window it is from here...ah." Her fingers tightened on his. To his amazement, the air before them shifted, made a sound like a very distant cannon, just under the threshold of human hearing._

_She pressed forward, and they were through._

_Severus experienced the gentlest transition from sleeping to waking he'd ever felt. When his eyes opened, he realized with a small amount of surprise that he was holding a tiny girl half in his lap. She blinked drowsily at him. _

_"Your mind is very tranquil, did you know?"_

_For once in his life, he wasn't certain what to say._

_She hopped off his lap, keenly peering around his study. "You have so many books..." she said wistfully. "I wish I had half as many. Have you read them all?"_

_"Yes," Severus answered curtly. _

_"How long did _that_ take you?"_

_"Long."_

_She glanced sharply at him. "I've upset you," she said quietly, wrapping her arms about thin shoulders. "What was it?"_

_Severus visibly regained composure. He forced an expression onto his face that was vaguely not unpleasant. "Hermione Granger."_

_Her eyes flickered. "Yes?"_

_"Lucius told me about you. But he never told you about me?"_

_"No. Well...yes. I don't know."_

_Severus narrowed his eyes. "You don't know?"_

_"Well," she began, concentrating hard, "He never _spoke_ of you. But in his mind...I could see...flashes of you."_

_"You saw my face in his mind?"_

_She nodded warily. "Sort of. I mean, I got little flashes of his _impressions_ of you. Not you exactly."_

_"Ah." He nodded slowly. "Can you read minds, then?"_

_"I don't know, Sir." At his raised eyebrow, she continued. "I haven't tried for real...seems sort of unfair."_

_"Okay," he said encouragingly. "What do you like to do?"_

_Hermione wrinkled her small face at him. "You ask an awful lot of questions, mister. And you haven't even introduced yourself."_

_Severus cursed inwardly. He'd been so taken by her, as if she was a fiercely intriguing book, that he'd forgotten everything else. "Oh! Of course." He held out a hand to her. "I am Severus Snape, as you know. I'm a professor here at Hogwarts."_

_"Hogwarts? That's the school I heard of?"_

_"Likely," Severus answered. "Would you like some tea?"_

_"Please!"_

_The herbs and spices were already out, so Severus waved his hand at the kettle to heat it. He rose and crossed the room to take a pottery cup from the cupboard. "Would you like green or black?" He asked, holding out two mugs._

_"Green, thanks."_

_She watched him methodically prepare the tea, adding various ingredients and stirring occasionally. After a bit, she commented, "This is a ritual for you."_

_He turned, surprised. He'd been unaware that she was observing him, much less that she'd given much thought to his actions. Who cared about this sort of thing? No one had ever asked before. _

_Severus felt a true smile curve his mouth. "Yes. It was one of the few things I learned from my father. It's a meditation of sorts." He hesitated. "Do you know what meditation is?"_

_She frowned. "The word feels like...a kind of quiet contemplation, isn't it? Like waking sleep?"_

_He nodded. "A bit. So, tell me something about you. What do you think of your lessons with Lucius?"_

_"I love them!" Her entire face glowed, and for the first time, Severus noticed how bright her eyes were. Amber, almost red-gold, and there was something else. A kind of...depth._

_"Favorite part?" Severus asked lightly.  
><em>

_"Mmmm...difficult. I love flying. Lucius tries to make me use a broomstick, which is much hard. Scary." She giggled. "I think it annoys him, that I'd rather fly alone."_

_He stared, momentarily frozen. "Alone?" He finally managed. "How so? Can you show me?"_

_She glanced quickly around the room, getting a feel for how much room she had to work with. "Alright," she said uncertainly. "Right here?"_

_"Well...why don't you just hover a little?"_

_"A little?" She laughed. "Okay, so you have to concentrate, like you're meditating, I think. Pretend the air is solid beneath you, and really _believe_ it, then..." Severus watched, heart pounding, as Hermione stepped into midair. "You just rise up. Easy."_

_She looked expectantly at him, and Severus realized suddenly she wanted him to try. "Oh-I...I'd rather watch you-"_

_Hermione shook her head, laughing. "Oh, you must try! Please? No one thinks they can, but I bet if you just tried..."_

_Unaccustomed to such enthusiasm directed at him, and feeling unusually pleased by it, Severus had to relent. "Very well, then. So I just imagine the air is solid and step out..."_

_He cleared his mind. _Believe_, he told himself. This girl can do it...so can you. Taking a deep breath, he reached into the air..._

_And tumbled to the ground, twisting his ankle beneath him._

_He couldn't look at her. Severus had known too many girls like her, they'd act nice and friendly, then discard him as easily as taking off a cloak. She'd be laughing at him openly, or else poorly concealing her disdain behind a hand-_

_But to his immense astonishment, he felt a warm body beside him, gently cupping his ankle._

_When he looked up, there were tears running down her cheeks._

_"Oh, I'm sorry! This is all my fault, I shouldn't have insisted that you try, I'm sorry, sorry..."_

_She sniffled and wiped her eyes, frowning at his ankle. The sharp pain began to subside, then vanished. _

_Severus felt a knot forming in his chest, watching her cry for him. Something strangely wet in his eyes..._

_"Not at all, young lady, I'm a clumsy old man. There, there, don't cry now." He'd never admit that he was begging.  
><em>

_Hermione finally raised her teary eyes to meet his. "I'm a lousy teacher, don't deny it. I'll figure something out, I promise, something much better-"_

_Severus took hold of her hands. "I tried to do something and it didn't work. No worries. And you just healed me." He reached out a finger and bopped her lightly on the nose. "Still friends?"_

_She managed a laugh through her tears. "Still friends."_

_"Now what?" he said, helping her to her feet. _

_She grinned impishly up at him. "How about that tea you promised me?"_

_That blinding smile she had was doing funny things to his brain. _

_Severus added his voice to her golden laughter.  
><em>

* * *

><p>AN: One more down, thanks for reading!_  
><em>


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: A chapter for you, my dulcet darlings. Thanks for reading, and especially for reviewing!

* * *

><p>The air was very crisp; Lucius knew that snow was imminent in a few weeks. Wrapping his steel gray cloak more tightly about his shoulders, he walked quickly through the Muggle neighborhood he was beginning to know so well. Hermione returned home from school at around 3 o'clock on weekdays, and he usually gave her an hour or so to relax before arriving for her lesson. He quickly performed the usual muffling and disillusionment charms to shield them both from Muggle eyes.<p>

She was hiding in a tree wearing a makeshift cape when he approached the neat white and brick house.

"Luuucius," she howled in a ghostly voice when he walked beneath her. "Luuucciuuuuss!"

He pretended to look about himself in a fright, concealing a grin when he heard her practically snorting with laughter above him. "Who's there?"

"I am a stoorrmm," she whispered hoarsely. "I am blinding rain and hurtling winds...I am spiders and snakes and sharks, and I'm coming for yooooouu!" The tiny girl leaped suddenly on Lucius' broad back, crowing with fiendish glee. She scrambled agilely off, evading his hands, and raced towards the patio with arms outstretched, screaming, "I'm a dragon! Look at me, I'm a ghost, I'm an ogre! I'll eat your bones and boil your brains!"

Lucius watched, highly amused, as she scampered to their usual spot in the back yard. "Even an ogre wouldn't devour her teacher," he called. "Though a dragon certainly might!"

Hermione peeped out from under the sheet she had fastened about herself. "How would _you_ know," she asked giggling.

He smiled mysteriously. "Because I know. Which one are you today, a dragon or an ogre?"

"Both! I'm a dragre!" Hermione shouted, then bit her lip to hide a pleased smile. "Will I eat you up then?"

"You tell me," said Lucius coyly.

She _harrumphed_. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you." Her fingers rose to play with the safety pin holding her cape together. "What are we doing today? it's _cold_."

He looked down thoughtfully at the girl, absently weaving a warming spell about her with his wand. "Not so much magic today, Hermione. I thought I'd tell you some more about Hogwarts. Would you like that?"

Hermione looked down at her now-warm garment. "Thanks for that. And yes, yes I want to hear about the school. Severus teaches there, doesn't he?"

Lucius nodded. "He does teach there. I heard you got to meet him yesterday."

He'd kept his tone purposefully light, but she must have heard the edge in his voice. She looked at him quickly. "Yes, I went over there. He seemed a bit put out at first, but then we got talking, and I really like him."

"I'm glad," Lucius responded, leaning his back against the maple tree. "He seemed to enjoy you."

She was silent for a moment, biting her lip in that way she had whenever she wanted to ask Lucius something, but was unsure how to put it.

"Yes?" he asked encouragingly. "What is it?"

Hermione gave Lucius that ancient, amber look. "Severus Snape," she began softly, "is very, very sad about something. He didn't want me to see it, so I didn't look, but-"she bit her lip again-"but it makes me _wonder_ about him."

Lucius stayed silent for a few moments, watching the girl before him. Most people didn't pick up on the sorrow of Severus, at least not for a long time. They saw what he chose to present to them: a terse, cynical, sarcastic man. But Hermione saw through it straight away. He detected no malice in her gaze, no desire to cause Severus pain: there was only compassion and innocent curiosity in her wide eyes. Yet still...he wouldn't tell her, if Severus didn't want her to know.

He sighed, then answered firmly. "Severus Snape's business is his own, Hermione. Perhaps he'll tell you someday when he wishes you to know. He is a good man, remember that." Lucius sternly held her gaze until she nodded dutifully.

"Yes, Lucius. I know."

"Good. Now, shall we begin?"

She curled on the grass obediently. "Yes," she said again solemnly. "We shall."

They spoke of Hogwarts for the remainder of the afternoon. Hermione was particularly interested in the history of the place ("Over one thousand years old!" she exclaimed happily). Some hidden deep instinct told Lucius that Hermione would never choose to be in Slytherin, regardless of how many of it's prized qualities she exhibited; so he tried to remain carefully neutral when explaining the four houses. To his annoyance, though he wasn't particularly shocked, Hermione knew his Slytherin background at once, simply because, as she put it, "the word seemed to like him".

It wasn't until he was preparing to leave that Lucius suddenly realized something he should have been aware of before.

"Wouldn't you rather play with friends after school, Hermione? We can change lesson times, if you like."

"Oh, not really," Hermione answered, smiling at him rather vaguely. "Lessons are far more interesting."

If he didn't know the girl as well as he did, Lucius would have accepted this without a second thought. But her airiness worried him.

He fixed her with steely eyes. "Hermione," he warned.

Something in her eyes flickered. "I said I'd rather spend time with you," she returned sharply.

He tightened his lips. Was she becoming attached to him? Or didn't she have any friends? He was aware that girls of a certain age began to form more strict groups within their own year-cliques, that's what they were called. But surely this child was too young to worry about such things?

"How old are you, Hermione?"

She scrutinized her toes. "I turned ten this month."

Lucius blanched.

She was ten? _Ten_? She looked to be no older than eight, and that was pushing it. Lucius had thought she was younger than his son for certain. He made a quick calculation in his head. Yes...she'd be in Draco's year at Hogwarts. Did they really have so little time before her Magic schooling began?

He realized she was still looking at her feet. Quickly rearranging his features to hide his shock, Lucius feigned indignation. "You had a birthday this month and you didn't tell me?"

Hermione managed a half smile.

"Happy Birthday, my dear girl! What day?"

"The nineteenth," she said softly.

Lucius thought back quickly. They'd had a lesson as usual that day, which had ended just before her suppertime. Why hadn't Hermione mentioned it? "I remember that day. Didn't your parents and friends throw you a party?"

The girl swallowed, looking uncomfortable. "I got presents, and Mum bought a cake."

He waited, knowing the silence would make her feel awkward enough to continue.

"We forgot to eat it, though. It's no matter," she added quickly, seeing Lucius frown. "I don't much like chocolate anyway."

Well this certainly explained why she didn't say anything: Hermione-his sweet young Hermione-didn't think her own birthday mattered to others. She was trying to pass it off lightly, but Lucius could see her eyes glistening.

He couldn't push her further, not now. Lucius decided to let the matter drop, for the time being.

"Very well," he said smiling down at her as gently as he could. "Same time tomorrow?"

Hermione nodded, returning the smile shyly. "Tomorrow, then."

* * *

><p>Moonlight streamed into his study later that night. Lucius looked up from his work, frowning thoughtfully out the window. He disliked that entire encounter with Hermione earlier in the evening. But there was also something terribly wrong about the way Hermione had responded to questions about her social life. Young girls were supposed to gaggle, weren't they? His own son had a circle of friends Lucius had encouraged him to make. He'd have thought everyone would be as drawn to Hermione as he himself was...could he be wrong? The need to know and his desire to respect her privacy warred within him...but he was responsible for her, to some degree, wasn't he? He decided to investigate further.<p>

The next day, Lucius made his way back to the neighborhood early, hoping to glimpse his prodigy interacting with others her own age. It had been simple enough to track down her school, which was only a short walk from her house.

No adults, Magic or Muggle, would take kindly to a strange man observing their children; Lucius cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, musing that he'd never had to perform so many in such a short period of time.

He'd arrived around the noon hour, thinking the children would be at play then. He was right. Behind the school there was a wide expanse of grassy park, with swings and nets he assumed were intended for playing some type of Muggle sport. The air was loud with boisterous children screaming and laughing, some eating lunch on steps or monkey bars, others playing mysterious children's games.

His gut wrenched suddenly when he saw his Hermione apart from the others. Alone, as he'd suspected. She was sitting cross-legged leaning against a large maple tree, a gigantic book in her lap, half-eaten peanut butter sandwich grasped loosely in one hand.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Lucius strengthened the charm concealing him from others. Hermione would possibly see through it immediately if she looked up from her book, but Lucius thought he could disappear quickly enough if her concentration wavered at all. He wasn't overly worried, though: when Hermione was reading, she rarely lost focus.

He watched her as she wound a curl about her finger absently, amber eyes speedily drinking in the pages. Why wasn't she with the others? Was she simply a shy bookworm? He smiled ruefully. Perhaps as prodigious as all her talents were, social interactions were not among them. Or not: there could be another reason. He needed to find out.

When a child ran near his position beneath the trees, chasing after her ball, Lucius partially dissolved his Disillusionment charm, sending a silent beckoning spell in her direction. When she approached cautiously, Lucius added a calming charm. Her face went blank as she came over to him.

Keeping his voice steady and quiet, Lucius asked, "Can you tell me who that girl is over there, the one reading the book?"

She turned to glance where he'd gestured. "Hermione Granger. She's in the seventh grade, even though she's only nine."

"Ten," Lucius corrected unthinkingly. The girl waited silently. "Why don't you play with her?"

She looked at him as though he was simple. "Well, she's older than me. And shes..."

"Go on," he said calmly.

"Well, she's _weird_."

"Weird how?"

The girl looked back at Hermione doubtfully. "She's nice enough, I guess, but she never wants to skive off classes."

Lucius nodded, suspecting there was more. "She just wants to study?"

"Yes," the girl replied, warming to the conversation. "All the teachers really like her, but all the girls in her grade say she must be cheating somehow. How could she have all the answers, _all_ the time? Plus she knows things that are...uncanny."

"How so?" He looked surreptitiously at Hermione to be sure she hadn't taken notice of him; she was still curled beneath the tree, deeply absorbed in her book.

The child shrugged. "Little things, I guess. Like this one time I heard the class was divided into groups and had to make up some of their own language. I know, pretty fun, right? Except Hermione seemed to know what other groups' words meant, even before they shared. How else could she know, unless she was cheating?"

He nodded again, keeping his features impassive.

"She's just too used to teachers liking her, and they never think she would cheat. Snobby, you know? She has weird ideas, too, about _everything_, and she's always trying to stick up for dumb people for dumb reasons. And her eyes look funny sometimes. She's just..._strange_."

Behind her, Lucius could see other children beginning to look over, wondering what was going on. It was time to leave.

He gazed into the child's eyes, casting a small forgetfulness spell. "Thank you, Becky. You can go now." He passed her the ball.

She grabbed it and scampered off, not giving him a second glance.

Lucius Disapparated with a _pop_.

* * *

><p>Back in his home, Lucius went quickly to his chambers to prepare for lunch with his family. He sat patiently as his manservant Edgar brushed his long fair hair, tying it in the back with a deep green ribbon that matched his robes. It was so strange, really, how Muggle parents let other people mind their children all day from the time when they were so young. At nine, Draco had tutors, of course, but his time was spent mainly with the family. These were formative years...only when he was eleven could Lucius reasonably expect Draco to know enough about who he was to let him attend boarding school. But certainly not before then.<p>

He held out his wrists so Edgar could fasten cuff links. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he disliked Muggle parents, particularly Hermione's. How could they forget cake on her birthday? How could they get her a cake she wouldn't like?

Lucius had to do something. Children were children, and he now understood why Hermione had trouble making friends: she was simply too brilliant for her own age. Mentally she far surpassed the others...how she must hate being stuck in the child's body. But he could easily teach her to cope with her peers.

Her own parents, on the other hand...they were the only ones she had; how could they be so dismissive of such a child? He had been careful about concealing himself from Hermione's family, so he'd never been seen by them. But now he realized he'd never seen them either. Didn't they care where Hermione was?

He stood finally, surveying his reflection coldly in the mirror. Impeccable; presentable.

As he made his way to the dining hall where he could see Narcissa and his son already seated, Lucius made up his mind.

He'd invite Hermione Granger to his home, where he would shower her with presents and a delicious cake, whatever her favorite kind. She would meet his wife and his son and Draco's friends, who he'd make sure were sweet and welcoming to her, and then Hermione would be happy.

Lucius would see to it.


	5. Chapter 5

Extra long chapter to make up for the extra long delay...enjoy!

* * *

><p>Since infancy, Draco had been trained to read people. From the most subtle gestures-a purse of the lips, tension in the shoulders, a silent sigh-to the broad universal patterns of life, encompassing the web of human emotion and logic and desire, <em>everything, <em>he had learned. And the next level: how to pull life's levers and bells to train the world to respond to his bidding, that was the ultimate goal. His father was the finest, the most gifted of manipulators.

Even when Draco sensed his father working his skills on him, he went along willingly with whatever Lucius Malfoy wanted. That was his father's power: he made others admire him, fear him, yearn to be like him.

So naturally, Draco practiced his father's skills on his group of friends. Mr. Malfoy, as head of OAN, was the head of his social circle, the elite of Europe. Thus, Draco reasoned, leadership of the children fell to him.

He watched them now, carefully.

They were gathered for the usual Sunday brunch. After eating, the adults were conversing in the parlor on ground level, and Draco had taken his friends to the study in his own quarters, the East Wing. Draco headed the elegant mahogany table, flanked as ever by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The snub-nosed little witch, Pansy Parkinson, sat his second right, followed by Theodore Nott, Tracey Davis, Julian Macht, and Daphne Greengrass. All Purebloods, all children of the most powerful witches and wizards of Britain. All under his control.

"My tutor says I'm well beyond First Year magics," declared Theodore smugly, tossing back a curl of dark hair. "By this time next year, I'll technically be a Third Year while all the baby Firsties are still learning how to wipe their own mouths."

"Technically, you'll also be a First Year," Daphne commented calmly, smoothing her silvery hair, though not a strand was out of place. "Seeing as you've never even been to Hogwarts."

"I'm just saying my powers will be that much more advanced!" Theodore snapped.

Daphne met his anger coolly. "Perhaps. But perhaps other First Years will also have been pre-trained. Did you consider that? You're not the only one of us with tutors, Theodore."

Draco smirked inwardly as Theodore reddened. The boy was pompous and insecure, which made him easy to control. And he loved how Daphne dealt with business. She was like his mother, an ice queen.

Since the Nott boy looked as though he would have a fit, Draco decided it was time to interject.

"We _all_ need to study well," he said, surveying the others sternly. "I expect all of you to be well beyond those whom Mr. Nott so charmingly described as 'learning to wipe their mouths'. After all," Draco allowed a small smile to pass over his own lips, "in our world, power is power."

Laughter.

He continued. "Daphne, you picked up on an important thread: other students in our year will possibly have been pre-trained. I know at least one boy who has already survived an encounter with the most powerful Dark Wizard our world has seen." He searched the faces around him pointedly.

"Harry Potter," murmured Tracey Davis softly.

His eyes snapped to hers. "That's right, Tracey, Harry Potter. Who can say what kind of Magic he possesses? How much? Or what his temperament, what his agenda? So we need to be prepared, not only academically, but mentally, too.

"You are all my friends. We've grown up together, had adventures together...who knows us better than we do? We can be a real force if we try."

The others watched him with rapt attention. Some were nodding.

"Daphne, you're the sharpest witch I know." Draco reached past Goyle to touch her fingers. "Read, as much as you can. Your knowledge will be our greatest asset.

"Tracey, your spells have a good deal of power behind them...hone your strength. Pansy, you have the social connections we need, forge them! Julian, you have a wonderful mind for strategy, and Merlin knows what else. Discover your passions."

Draco gazed intensely at the faces ringing him. He could see pride in those he praised...and determination in those to whom he gave no recognition. _You're mine_, he thought, exulting. _I can move you all_.

"The greatest witches and wizards the world has ever known were all once like us. If we persevere, we can be like them. We can surpass them. _Together_. We have one year before we enter Hogwarts_._ One year before our movements will be observed and documented by powerful people. A year to function under the radar. The time to test ourselves and make mistakes is _now_. The time to prepare is now. _One year_, my friends, to prepare for our rise to greatness."

His voice, clear, strong, certain, rang out in that chamber like bells. When he finished, the silence was deep.

"Who's with me?"

* * *

><p>His father seemed distracted as they rode. Lucius Malfoy, as ever, wore a mask of polite attentiveness. But Draco, perceptive as ever, noted the bland comments, the faint furrows of deep thought in his father's features.<p>

Near sunset, his father slowed his horse to a trot, motioning Draco to follow. They dismounted at a clearing in the forest, a small meadow dotted with a few surviving flowers. Across the lake, Malfoy Manor rose in the distance like a cliff of white marble.

His father patted his Arabian absently. "Son, I've seen how your friends look at you."

Draco kept his features blank, watching the horses drink from the icy pure lake water.

"They look up to you, don't they?" Lucius Malfoy continued after a beat. "I'm proud of you, Draco."

Such simple words. Did his father know what they meant to him? After scarcely a moment's hesitation, Draco inclined his head. "Thank you, Father."

Lucius Malfoy sighed softly. If Draco hadn't been observing his father so closely, he would have missed it. "Draco...Son. Your godfather and I have found a girl around your age."

Draco nodded again, wondering where this was going. It wasn't often that Lucius Malfoy was hesitant.

"She's...different. Special. She needs guidance. Severus and I are doing what we can, but she's grown up in a Muggle neighborhood, with Muggle parents who don't realize her potential."

_Muggle_? Draco's lips thinned. What was his father thinking, assisting a Muggleborn? But he held his silence. His father would impart all the information Draco required...for now.

He continued. "I've tried to speak fairly of the late Dark Lord, tell you his strengths and his weaknesses. The truth is, the most significant aspect of the man was his _power_. So very much...it rolled off him in waves. Most powerful man of the age, except perhaps for Albus Dumbledore. Now your godfather and I sense something of the same magnitude in this young girl. More, mayhaps. Do you understand what I need, my son?"

Lucius' gray eyes sharpened on Draco's. He swallowed, mind racing.

"You want me to...you want this girl to look at me...like the others do? You want me to ingratiate her with our group, make her one of us?"

His father paused. "Yes. And no. She will never be one of you."

Draco narrowed his eyes. So his father had caught the momentary flicker of unease in him. It was only fair: how could a stranger be a part of what his circle had shared since before they were born?

But there was more, it seemed. "Draco, I understand she will never be as close as you and your friends. But moreover-and more significantly-she's different. Perhaps too different for your friends to be comfortable with. They may be jealous."

Lucius lowered his hands onto Draco's shoulders. "I'm asking you to _protect_ her. Give her time to learn of our world. Become a friend to her, a confidante. There may come a time when we need her."

Was that his father's game, then? Praise him, only so Draco would do his bidding?

But Draco quelled the thought. He had done well; that's why his father was trusting him with this girl. Muggle or not, she was powerful. He could do this.

He looked back solemnly. "I shall, Father. When are we to meet?"

Lucius Malfoy straightened, regained distance. "Soon. I'll need to arrange a few matters first. In the meantime, continue as you have. I'll tell you more when the time is right."

* * *

><p>It was nearing dawn when Lucius awoke, Narcissa's arm draped over his waist. Sliding slowly out of bed, he splashed his face with rosewater and dressed himself in the darkness, moving so quietly not even faithful Edgar stirred in his small chamber adjoining the master suite. Robes of a deep forest green, a light gray cape. Supple leather boots. Lucius considered his dim reflection briefly before deciding to leave his hair unbound, placing a simple silver circlet about his brow.<p>

He had Order business to attend to, but first he wanted to spend some more time with his little prodigy. Pry some information out of her. But he needed to be subtle...she had an evasive tendency, and he knew her well enough by now to realize, despite the soft and sweet exterior, Hermione was an exceedingly private and secretive child.

Saturdays she had off, Lucius knew, and her parents let her mind herself for the most part. She would likely playing at home or reading in the park, or else devouring some classic in the neighborhood library.

That was another thing he had to sniff out. Her parents.

He recalled their frantic state when she had gone missing, the first time he had set eyes on Hermione. Surely they loved her...but then, forgetting her birthday? What sort of people did that?

After casting the usual Invisibility spells, he checked her home. Her parents were there, but no Hermione. Lucius sighed: if she wasn't at home, Hermione could be out with her cousins; at least he felt certain he could rule out friends. She could be anywhere, really...he really didn't feel much like searching the whole city for her.

Well...perhaps he could locate her by different means.

Closing his eyes, Lucius opened his mind, tracing the golden threads of life. Here and there, he caught whiffs of magic in the area, but they were faint. Where was she?

Lucius loosened his shoulders, rolling his neck in a circle. He needed to expand his search.

He checked the neighboring cities, and found nothing. Perhaps she was visiting another country? She had mentioned they had relatives in France. Yet still, nothing. He slipped down, sitting against the tree he and Hermione had spent hours beneath.

Faint nausea crept over him, a foreign feeling. Was this panic?

Lucius sent the silent call. _Hermione!_ _Where are you, little_ Hermione? No response.

He pushed deeper. The world. He searched everywhere for that fierce amber spark. His surroundings began to fade from his consciousness; coldness overtook his limbs. Never before had he strayed so far, yet mounting concern overwhelmed caution.

Dimly, Lucius felt something pulling at him, some need of his body. Ah, it was air: he had forgotten to breathe.

Unimportant. He delved further, scouring the world for her.

Darkness mounted. He approached a barrier, broke through like the sound of a distant drum. Then there was nothing. Nothing.

And then: a flash of white and amber. _There_.

Fury. Terror. Confused, he reached out.

Glimpse of ancient eyes, golden heart.

Blinding light; blinding dark. Hurricane of pain washing over.

Nothing again.

* * *

><p>He first felt confusion.<p>

More pain.

A soft weight in his arms. _Lucius__. Lucius, please wake up. You need to live, quickly_.

_There_. There she was.

He took a breath.

* * *

><p>He awoke truly to some soft place, a wild garden, a green shade. Flowers and leaves and grass crushed beneath him, slender branches above. An evening sun, golden, amber.<p>

Hermione beside him, his head on her lap. Her small fingers ghosted over his face, his hair, the silver circlet he wore.

He tried to sit up, but found his muscles too weak.

"What in the name of Merlin were you thinking?" demanded a harsh black voice.

Lucius flicked his eyes to the left. Managed a limp smile. "Severus."

The answering scowl made him laugh.

The resulting pain brought on a grimace.

"Ouch," he explained concisely.

Hermione stirred beneath him. She held a small bone cup to his lips. He sniffed. Water?

Lucius drank deep. Gasped. The water was fire. He couldn't drink, but found he couldn't stop either. With each swallow, agony swept through his limbs.

Life swept through his limbs.

When the cup was empty, he realized Severus had knelt beside him, dark eyes unreadable. "What _were_ you doing, Lucius?"

He became aware of strength returning. He sat up carefully, scooted back a foot until he collapsed against a tree trunk.

"Where are we?" he asked hoarsely.

Severus looked at the girl, who flinched.

"Hermione?" the man questioned, a warning rumble rising in his voice.

Lucius looked from one to the other. What had happened while he was out? Memory was beginning to seep back into him along with the strength. He had been looking for Hermione, hadn't he? Then what?

She bit her lip, uncharacteristically reluctant. "The Edge," she half-whispered.

"Of what?" Severus and Lucius said simultaneously.

The girl shifted so the two men saw her profile. The elfin face, often alight with wonder, seemed strangely blank. They watched her swallow.

It was Lucius who broke the silence. "You'd better tell us what happened, Hermione," he said gently. "I remember I was searching for you magically, and could find nothing." He shot a guilty glance at Severus. "I went a little too far...I was _worried_ about you, Hermione. Where did you go?"

"And where have you brought Lucius and me?" Severus put in.

The girl remained unspeaking for a time. Then she gestured at the green world around them. "This place seemed the safest-and surest-way to return Lucius to...to what he was."

The mens' eyes narrowed, but they held their silence, allowing the story to unfold.

"Look at the trees," Hermione whispered. "The _green_ of the leaves. The softness of the air. This is a good place to recover when..." she trailed off, biting her lip. "I don't know how to explain..."

Severus and Lucius exchanged glances. What was the girl going on about?

She tried again after a moment. "I was with family. _My_ family, blood of my blood."

Lucius drew a breath, spoke unthinkingly. "You mean the parents you live with aren't your real family?

"They _are_ my family," flashed Hermione, some small force emanating from her before she regained control. "I mean, they care for me. They took me in when a woman showed up on their doorstep, begging for aid, clutching a baby. Me."

"How did you find out?" Severus broke in. Lucius, too, wondered. Did the people she was staying with actually explain to the child she was unwanted?

Hermione lifted her thin shoulders in a shrug. "I saw it. In their minds." To their confused faces, she added, "they didn't want me to see, but I caught glimpses of what happened. They think about it sometimes when I bother them." The girl's voice turned tremulous, though she would not weep. "You know. They wonder how life would be if a dying stranger claiming to be a relative hadn't presented them with an infant.

"They love me, they _do_," she added. "In their own way. But I wasn't planned. And Mum and Daddy have a child of their own...life would be..._easier_ if I weren't around."

Silence fell and grew. Severus and Lucius sat pondering her words. This wasn't exactly the story they had asked for, but it answered so many of their questions. It was Severus, gloomy, bad-tempered Severus, who approached her slowly and laid a hand protectively on her shoulders.

"Go on," he murmured softly, eyes tender.

Hermione swallowed again. It occurred to Lucius suddenly that he'd never seen her so vulnerable. Then again, she had never seen _him_ so vulnerable. It was a heavy moment.

"Well...well, I wondered, too. I wondered who that woman was. My mother. So I followed my parents' memories of her and found the trace of her being. Her ghost-no, that's not quite right. Her _spirit_. I found that, and sometimes she talks to me."

Lucius and Severus shared another look. This was getting stranger by the word.

"She's dead?" Severus managed.

"Yes," said Hermione simply. "And lonely, too. So I visit her when I can. That's where I was when I sensed Lucius searching for me."

"You visit her," Severus echoed numbly. His arm slipped from her shoulders. "Your dead mother."

"Yes," Hermione repeated. She shot both men that bewildered look she wore whenever she thought they were either being deliberately slow or making fun of her. "Is that wrong?"

Lucius swallowed thickly. So that's why he had that strange vision and blacked out-he had, technically, been dead for a few moments. And so had Hermione...but she seemed perfectly fine. Which, Lucius realized, she actually was. She did this often, she had said. This was worse than the dream-walking. This was even more impossible. To dance with the dead...

But he mustn't frighten her off, Lucius reminded himself with a will. "Of course not," he said smoothly, only a slight quaver marking the words. "Just unusual. I can't do that," he added casually, to which Hermione tilted her head in the way that meant she was deeply considering his words.

Severus cleared his throat, forcing lightness into his tone. "Well then, glad we got this sorted out."

Hermione jerked her head back as if slapped. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Lucius said, leaning over to touch her shoulder, "that your powers can sometimes surprise us. Which is okay, Hermione. Just give us a little time to take it in."

He had approached her warily, knowing trust was the biggest issue here. If she bolted, she might not come back. And, he thought sourly, they'd be stuck on the Edge, whatever that was. But no matter, he decided. Enough questions for now. The main thing was that Hermione was fine, and he'd survived...well, he'd survived his own death.

Severus replaced his own hand on her shoulder. Hermione stayed motionless, neither flinching away nor leaning in for a hug.

That was fine with him.

Perhaps encouraged by the comforting hands, Hermione volunteered more information, offering a conclusion. "So that's why I brought you here, Lucius, and why I summoned Severus as well. This is the Edge of the World...well, the Edge of the Living World. It's the most _alive_ place I've found, so I thought it'd help you back to normal quickly." Hermione bit her lip. "Seemed to work..."

Heart softening at her obvious desire to please, Lucius gave her his most winning smile. "It certainly did, little one. I thank you."

"Indeed," Severus cut in, scholarly interest overtaking his customary taciturnity. "It would make sense that the boundary between the living and dead would radiate the most extreme configuration of either force. Now, mostly we can only deal with theory, but the Siberian wizard Tomas Klatz postulated-"

"Whew," interrupted Lucius, rising to his feet. "This has been quite a day. Let's save the philosophy for another time, my friend."

"Indeed," Hermione recited solemnly, and Lucius realized with a pang that she had learned the word from him. The girl straightened his silver circlet, brushing his hair back with deft fingers. Lucius let her do as she will, gazing at her face, the childish tangle of curls, the strangely adult tenderness. "There," Hermione said, surveying her work with a pleased expression. "Now you look a prince!"

"My lady," he said, offering his hand with a royal flourish to Hermione. From the corner of his eye, he spied Severus rising as well, a relieved, perplexed smile touching his normally somber features. When the girl accepted his hand, Lucius decided to try a bit of humor. "There's only one thing to be done now," he said slyly, putting on a mock serious face.

"What?" Hermione asked, a wary smile forming on her lips.

"Why, we must consume large amounts of ice cream, of course!"

The two men began to relax when Hermione's laughter rang out on the Edge of the World.

Lucius winked.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Until next time.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

In the days following that Sunday brunch, Draco had taken his father's request seriously. More and more, Lucius Malfoy had been holing himself up in his study, or disappearing altogether for hours on end. It meant something big, Draco was sure of it.

This girl must be something special indeed.

He summoned the circle a few days after his father had mentioned her. Narcissa was busy planning an informal social gathering, and his father had been absent the entire day, so after his tutoring, Draco was free to do as he pleased. He waited in his study, having instructed Teasby to install his guests in the East Wing drawing room and serve tea and platters of cheese and fruit skewers.

When they had all arrived-promptly, as Pureblood societal rules regarding punctuality were very strict-Draco entered, smiling pleasantly.

"Welcome, my friends. I trust you're all well?"

Murmured assent. Pansy smiled boldly. "And you, Draco?"

"I am very well, thank you," he replied courteously, with the gentleman's smile his father had taught him: impeccably polite, a hint of indulgence, and just a trifle frosty around the edges, to maintain the Malfoy distance.

Draco surveyed his guests surreptitiously; he had permitted them ample time for chit chat and light eating; they should be well-ready to focus. It was late afternoon; he had timed this perfectly.

He took a breath, regarding the group solemnly. "I have news for you...and a personal favor to beg you all." The circle shifted with interest. Those words seldom passed Draco's lips. "My father and Severus Snape have made an interesting discovery. Something which could bring good fortune or ruin to us all."

Draco paused for dramatic effect. He had worked this speech for hours, and was pleased with how smoothly it was flowing. Pansy, Tracey, and Theodore were gazing at him with wide eyes; Vincent and Gregory, as ever, were impassive; Daphne and Julian were waiting with calm composure.

"In the filth of a Muggle neighborhood, in the depths of primitive ignorance, my father found a gem of a girl." His voice, soft until now, mounted stronger and louder. "A girl our own age of a great and terrible power. Enough to either conquer us or become our salvation. Enough," he said, softening once more, "to perhaps rival the late Dark Lord."

Heavy silence in the room; Draco could sense all were burning with questions, yet they were so well-trained, none moved a muscle.

"She must be trained as one of us. She _must_ be courted to our side. We must possess a jewel like her. _We need her_. Yet she has bloomed like a fine flower amongst the weeds of our world. She, too, is ignorant of the Wizarding World, everything we hold dear. Raised by Muggles."

Draco spread his hands. "This, my friends, is the boon I would ask of you all. _Help_ me. Help my father, help yourselves down the line. I ask you to welcome this girl, forgive her background, forgive her ineptitude, her flaws, her simplicity. For all our sakes...who knows. Perhaps we could be aiding our future Queen. Remember what I said when we last met? _It begins now_. Here's your chance."

He looked them all deeply in the eyes. "Don't give me your answers now. Take time to consider. I ask more than a simple favor, I know. I trust you'll all come to the right decision. And now," he inclined his head slightly, "I bid you good day, gentlemen. Ladies."

With his speech come to an end, and feeling he had imbued the circle with the correct emotions of curiosity, confusion, and excitement, Draco took his leave.

The moment the door closed behind him, he heard the room erupt with loud enthusiastic voices.

Draco allowed himself a small smile. He'd played his part flawlessly.

Now all he could do was wait.

* * *

><p>Lucius and Severus were each too preoccupied with their thoughts to confer after eating ice cream with Hermione. After seeing the girl safely home-her parents hadn't even noticed her absence-each man, after exchanging glances, had mutually agreed to meet on the morrow, when they had had time to process the day's events.<p>

Though he'd missed a day of OAN business, Lucius headed straight to his chambers. After instructing a house elf to inform his family he was feeling under the weather, and to eat supper without him, Lucius stripped his clothing, downed the sleeping draught Teasby had left for him, and climbed into bed.

Ten hours later, a Summoning from Severus woke him from sound rest.

Bleary-eyed, Lucius cursed under his breath. It was before seven o'clock in the morning, for Merlin's sake! What was going on in the man's blasted brain?

Despite his grumpiness, Lucius felt a prick of interest. Though he'd been utterly exhausted the night before, he had little doubt that Severus had spent a good few hours researching. The man was a scholar through and through...he wouldn't have been able to sleep without finding a few answers.

In moments, Lucius was heading to his library, where he knew Severus would be pacing grimly, untouched tea still steaming on a table.

He was right.

"Lucius!" cried the dark man, pausing mid-stride. "What took you so long? No, never mind, sit, sit." Severus gestured at the pair of squashy armchairs nestled between two book cases, and resumed pacing.

Lucius was awake enough by now to feel amusement at being invited to take a seat in his own library. "Thank you, my friend. May I have tea?"

The man snorted. "Help yourself," he said, stomping off.

Only mildly perplexed at his friend's eccentricity, Lucius poured himself a fresh cup of Earl Grey, and settled himself comfortably. Before he knew it, Severus had returned and plonked a stack of tomes in front of him.

Lucius glanced up mock-sourly. "And this is...?"

"Research," Severus responded succinctly with a ferocious grin. "I have some theories, but without knowing the girl's heritage, it makes things more difficult."

"As long as I don't need to read all these," Lucius said airily, rolling back his sleeves. "What have you got?"

Severus threw himself onto his seat with a long sigh. "Could be almost anything. She could simply be a very gifted witch. She could be a century-old warlock in disguise, waiting to steal our powers. Or she could be the answer to any number of prophecies. We need more information before coming to conclusions."

"Agreed. Have you made notes?"

The man threw him an offended look. "Have I made notes? Who do you think I am?" He whipped out a stack of parchment papers, each crowded with untidy scrawl. "Now, we need to establish what exactly happened to you yesterday. Run through it again, please?"

Lucius took a sip of tea, wondering if he should ask Teasby for something stronger.

"I don't remember too much. I searched for Hermione magically, and couldn't find her anywhere."

"Nowhere on earth," Severus corrected, quill at the ready.

"That's right. I remember needing to breathe, but at the time, so deep in my meditation, I didn't quite understand what that meant. It felt rather like needing to eat breakfast, more of an idle desire than anything. Then I...I believe now that I passed through the gateway between the living world and the land of the dead."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And why do you think that?"

"The word that came to mind then was 'barrier'. I think I've even sensed something like it before...perhaps you have too, if you've woken abruptly from a deep sleep. There's a moment when you're in between the realms of sleep and consciousness. I can never recall exactly the vision I was seeing, but I have the lingering sense of it. You've felt this?"

He shrugged, scribbling furiously. "Maybe. But it never occurred to me that was the barrier between worlds."

"No," Lucius agreed. "Not that barrier. What I experienced yesterday felt similar to that, but...oh, I don't know. _Deeper_. I've never pushed so far away from myself."

"Ah. Did you see Hermione at this point?"

He shook his head slowly, remembering. "Not exactly."

Severus glanced sharply at him. "Not exactly? How do you mean?"

"It was more that I saw _her_." He paused. "Her, without the human body. I just perceived Hermione. But my eyes didn't record a visual."

"Most interesting," Severus murmured slowly. "And then you awoke on the Edge?"

"Yes. I suppose I was out for a while?"

"Hours," he replied, shooting Lucius a grimace. "I thought you were dead. Mostly, anyway. But the girl told me you were back inside your body. So I trusted her. It was all I could do."

"Sorry about that," Lucius said cheerfully.

"You seem devastated," came the dry reply.

"I think I'm still in shock. It's not every day one is rescued by a chit of a girl."

Severus bit out a laugh. "That's true enough." He sobered. "I wonder if there's anything she _can't_ do," he commented, nibbling his quill. "Have you encountered any issues?"

"I don't think so," Lucius said thoughtfully. "I think the _deed_ itself is simple enough for her. It seems to be the method that gives her trouble. She can't perform spells the way we do."

"That will be problematic at Hogwarts," Severus commented. "And we have less than a year to figure it out."

"We'll think up something. For now I'm more concerned about introducing her to Draco and the others. She needs friends her own age."

Severus sniffed. "I didn't have many friends my own age. She should be concerned primarily with her studies." Seeing Lucius frown, he added, "Alright, alright. She can have friends. Just keep me updated."

"As always."

"Always," Severus repeated."What we really need is to learn more about her parentage...but later. We have a little time, at least."

He rose abruptly to his feet, tossing his parchment and quill on the table between them. "What say we go for a morning ride? I'm tired of thinking about this."

Lucius gave his friend a knowing look. "You've been at this all night, haven't you?"

"Maybe. She's the most interesting study I've ever took on."

He laughed despite himself. "What _are_ you, my friend?"

"Myself," came the smug reply. "Nothing less, nothing more."

* * *

><p>Hermione was immersed in a book, <em>Myth, Magic, and Man<em>, when Lucius found her under their tree, streaks of sunlight dappling her soft skin. He lingered silently for a moment, watching her absently twist a curl of red-brown hair around a finger. Her eyes moved across the page so speedily, if he didn't know her better, he'd wonder if she was retaining any information at all.

She smiled suddenly. "Hello, Lucius," she commented without looking up from her book. "Feeling better?"

Lucius was taken by surprise, though being a Malfoy, he concealed the shock well. "I am, thank you. What would you like to learn about today?"

Hermione finally tore her eyes from the book, marking the page with a leaf. "Everything," she answered cheerily. "But I suppose we haven't the time."

Lucius shook his head. The girl never failed to warm his heart. "I'm afraid you're probably correct, young lady," he said gravely. "But there's something special I'd like to discuss."

"Something special, eh?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, playfully imperious. "Pray, continue."

Lucius finally came to stretch out beside her, legs crossed in front of himself. "I've told you a little of my family, remember? They all are very eager to meet you, Hermione. Would you like that?"

She froze for a heartbeat, then caught herself and relaxed the posture. "Your family? I...I suppose I would. When?"

"The day after tomorrow, if it please you. My son Draco has invited a few of his friends to our home for as late luncheon. I thought you might enjoy their company. And they would enjoy yours, no doubt."

Hermione blinked. Recollected herself. "Thank you for inviting me," she said politely, forcing a small smile to her lips. When Lucius looked away, she added more sincerely, "If your son is anything like you, I should be glad to know him."

He turned back, said gently, "My Draco is very kind. He is all that's good in me. And his friends are nice people, Hermione. They want to like you." _Not like those fools at your school, Hermione._ Lucius wanted to say. _Not like the people you call 'parents'_.

Perhaps his eyes were too knowing. Hermione was the one to look away this time, fingers running over the cover of her book. "Most people are _nice_, Lucius. But that doesn't mean they...it doesn't mean we'll be friends." Her voice, usually impish, laughing, or mocking, sounded tremulous and wise in equal parts.

Lucius closed his hand over hers. "Just try, Hermione. Please? For me?"

She looked in his eyes for a long moment, inches away from her own. "For you," she echoed softly. "Come find me at noon? The day after tomorrow."

Lucius gave her hand a squeeze. "Until then."

He watched as Hermione slipped her hand from his, swooped for her book, and disappeared into the tidy white house.

The day's lesson was apparently at an end. Lucius hoped it was worth it.

With a heavy sigh, he, too, rose from the grass, and Disapparated into the growing night.

* * *

><p>Lucius was tense. He hid his emotions better than any other, but Draco could sense his father's apprehension at the breakfast table. The single tapping finger, the slow measured swallows; something stiff in the elegant line of Lucius Malfoy's jaw.<p>

He felt something too, a quickening in his heartbeat. If even his father was anxious, this must be an important event. All beginnings were crucial, his father had told him many times.

Mentally, Draco reviewed the day's schedule, pouring himself a goblet of sour cherry juice. His father would pick the girl up in the afternoon. Draco would summon his friends and prepare them for the event. He had promptly received seven elegantly embossed letters after he had asked for the circle's aid. All were immensely curious, almost as much as Draco was.

Luncheon would be served at one o'clock, after the girl had had enough time to meet and greet the guests. If all went well, Teasby would bring out a lemon cake for the girl's birthday, and the guests would present her with small trinkets. Then his father would bring her home.

He sighed, pushing his plate of toast and bilberry jam away. So much depended on how he interacted with the girl. He really needed to show her the ropes, so she'd be comfortable spending time with him and the circle. Those Muggles likely never taught her anything useful.

Draco's stomach was too fluttery for food. He dabbed his lips with his napkin. "May I be excused?"

His father seemed to understand. "Certainly, son. Be ready for Hermione at noon, remember."

"Yes father."

Draco headed to his study and forced himself to concentrate on his studies for a couple hours, though his head kept spinning so fast he hardly made any progress. By ten-thirty, he had wandered from his study into his living chambers. He had Teasby draw a hot bath, and chose robes to wear, deep blue with a silver lining. They would bring out his eyes; he wanted to be perfect for the girl. Draco wanted her to worship him, like all the others did. Then his father would truly be proud.

Twelve o'clock sharp saw Draco with his friends in the drawing room. Narcissa, the only other adult, sat calmly in her seat. He surveyed the group. They looked poised, proper. Perfect.

He felt the manor's wards ripple when his father arrived with the girl. When the door opened, Draco's first impression was of a lot of hair.

Then he saw the girl peering out from underneath.

Draco remembered a painting he had once seen of a street urchin from the eighteenth century. It was a beautiful child, androgynous, expressing a strange mixture of ferocity and vulnerability.

This girl wore a soft green cotton dress, and had obviously made some attempt to tame her hair, unsuccessful as she was. She was clean and looked to be reasonably well-groomed; not at all like a homeless child.

But there was a similar look in her eyes. Defiant, timid; bold, afraid; this girl seemed poised at the edge.

His assessment was the work of a moment. By the time his father had walked in behind her and the girl had a chance to glance around, eyes seemingly lighting on everything in the room, Draco had stood courteously, copied by his male friends, and strode forward beside his mother to greet her.

Lucius Malfoy had a protective hand on the girl's shoulder, Draco noted. "Hermione, I'd like you to meet my wife, Narcissa."

His mother could be an ice queen, but there was only warmth in the look she directed at the girl. "Welcome to our home, Hermione. I hope you'll have a lovely time here."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said the girl softly, a small shy smile gracing her lips. "My name's Hermione Granger." She held out her hand to shake his mother's. Decidedly _not_ Pureblood etiquette.

His mother didn't skip a beat. "And you," she returned.

Lucius Malfoy turned gray eyes on him. "And this is my son, Draco."

He moved forward smoothly. "Hermione, it's lovely to meet you." When she held out her hand to shake again, Draco brought it to his lips. "I've heard a lot about you."

The girl stiffened when he kissed her hand; Draco caught his father's warning look and mentally kicked himself. How could he make such an obvious blunder, not five minutes after meeting the girl? He had noticed she looked skittish. Draco released her immediately, masking the movement with a step backwards to gesture her forward, to see the circle.

"These are my friends; I hope soon they will be yours as well."

Each member rose and bowed or curtsied politely, introducing themselves. The girl accepted each with a tiny nod or smile.

His father stepped back, and took Narcissa's arm. "Lunch will be served in a little while; why don't you all make yourselves comfortable in the East Wing? I'm sure Hermione would like to get to know you better."

Draco observed the minor stiffening of the girl as his father left the room, the way her wide eyes followed him  
>out the door. He frowned; she was so timid. What was she afraid of?<p>

He tried a placating smile at the girl. "If you'll follow me, we can go to my study." He began walking towards the East Stair. "I said I've heard a lot about you...I confess, my father has _mentioned_ you often, but only told me a few details. I look forward to getting to know you." The girl walked with him, and the others filed after, watching intently.

Hermione met his eyes, suddenly impassive. Her own eyes were very light brown, almost gold in the light. "And I you. Lucius told me very little about you. But he said you're like him, all the best parts. I hope he was right."

Draco blinked, unaccustomed to such direct conversation. And such a direct, sincere compliment.

"My...my father is kind to say so," he replied, cursing himself for the slight stutter. "It is my hope as well."

Pansy broke off from the others to join them. "Draco is the best of his father: clever and strong. And also," she added with a flirtatious smile, "very handsome."

Hermione blinked.

Pansy took Draco's arm. He accepted somewhat stiffly. Why didn't he like where this was going? "You should believe me on this one, Hermione. Draco and I have been friends forever, so I know him best." She nudged him playfully. "Don't I, Draco?"

He looked down at her courteously, though barely hiding a grimace. "It's true. We've known one another since infancy." Draco returned his attention to Hermione, who was appraising Pansy openly, wide eyes seeming to pierce the other girl's facade.

"Are you excited to begin at Hogwarts next year?" Draco asked, attempting to steer the conversation to safer waters as they passed through the maze of halls.

The tremulous timidity abruptly shattered when the girl turned those remarkable eyes on him once more with a grin. "Oh, yes! I've been reading all about it. _Hogwarts, A History_, of course, but also _Hogwarts, Fortress; Hogwarts, Home_, and _A __Study of Magic, Castles and History_, really brilliant! There's an article about the 'soul' of Hogwarts, too, which postulates that the four founders imbued the castle itself with a consciousness-"

Julian Macht, who had crept up behind Draco, broke in. "I know just the article! My father Lord Geoffrey actually _knows_ the scholar, and has even supported his work! You should really try _Spirit, Ghost, and Soul: the Hogwarts Paradox_, it's an extremely rare book, but you're welcome to read it in our personal library-"

Draco watched with narrowed eyes as Hermione and Julian conversed happily. A pink flush had appeared on the boy's skin, usually so pale as to be white. Julian's green eyes, which Draco had never particularly noticed before, sparked vividly under the mop of loose dark curls.

Thankfully, the group had passed up the East Stair to the study, which gave Draco a reason to speak, regain control.

"My study, and my own library," he said, opening the door with a flourish. "Not nearly as exhaustive as the Malfoy Library, which is on the second level, but decent enough."

He had judged Hermione's interests accurately. Her attention was at once diverted to the room they occupied, the books within, and, indirectly, Draco once more.

"A library of one's own," she murmured softly, still gazing at the wide room with the mahogany table, walls lined with tall shelves, wheeled ladders swinging on each side.

Daphne came to stand beside her. "A lovely place to meditate. I'm Daphne, remember?" She held out her hand in the fashion that Hermione had done earlier, a friendly smile gracing her lips.

The girl took it without hesitation. "I do. Daphne was the nymph who was transformed into the laurel-"

"-after being fed up with Apollo's unwanted attentions." Daphne eyed the girl warmly. "You enjoy mythology?"

"_Everything_," Hermione exclaimed. "It seems to me that knowledge is the most important form of power one can possess." After that outburst, she looked uncertain again, as if realizing that she had, for a few moments, forgotten to be shy.

Draco nodded. "A sentiment I quite agree with. Please, everyone, be seated."

The group obeyed. He observed all the faces closely. Gregory and Vincent looked expressionless as ever; Pansy was eying Hermione sulkily for some reason; Tracey and Theodore were watching with simple interest; Julian, Draco noted sourly, seemed entranced.

To his surprise, Vincent, customarily a reticent chap, spoke next.

"What's your favorite spell?"

The girl looked blank. "Spell? I...I'm not sure. What do you mean?"

Vincent shrugged. "Just what I said. You must be a powerful witch, if Lord Malfoy brought you in. So what kind of spells do you like?"

The ugly sneer that was appearing on his face made Draco uneasy. He, too, was interested in the girl's powers, but he would never dream of asking like _this_. Subtly as a mud brick.

Daphne spoke up before he could say anything, perhaps also cognizant of the sneer. "None of us can be sure where our true interests lie until we learn more about everything. Why don't you ask Hermione again at the end of...oh, say our fifth year?"

The boy turned his curiously flat eyes on Daphne. "We're all interested. Even you, admit it." He shrugged broad shoulders. "Nothing wrong with questions."

"That's true," Daphne said softly, "But there are different ways to go about asking questions."

There was a subtle warning in her tone. Draco prayed silently that Vincent would heed it.

Apparently Vincent was either too thick to catch the undertone, or else he didn't care. "Well then, Hermione Granger, why don't you tell us a little bit more about yourself."

The girl shifted slightly, eyes trained on Vincent like a hawk, though she remained silent. Waiting, perhaps, to see how the others would react.

"I for one would like to know something about the family, _Hermione_." He emphasized the name with a fake smile, more of a leer. "How horrible was it growing up with Muggles? Did they sap your powers? Do you even have _any_-"

Draco decided it was time to intervene. "That's enough, Crabbe." He snapped.

"No need to baby her."

"I said, that's _enough_."

"No one is babying her, Mr. Crabbe," Daphne added, calm and collected, with more than a hint of ice in her tone. "But right now _you're_ boring me. I'd rather discuss _ideas_."

"Like the soul of Hogwarts theory," chimed in Julian.

When the others voiced their consent, Vincent quieted, though he still looked surly. The rest of the circle seemed put off enough by Vincent, and keen enough to distance themselves from him, that they rallied around Hermione.

Draco, watching Hermione carefully, realized that, despite Vincent's assault, she seemed less wary than before. In fact, she seemed furious. Her expression was more or less calm...but a strange energy fizzed around her. What had happened to the shy fearful child?

It clicked: she had identified the threat of the group, and discovered her potential allies. _She reads people well_, he realized. _And manipulates them_. Could it be that the shy girl was a facade?

Yet when Draco observed her conversation with the others, she seemed genuine enough. When her curious eyes suddenly met his, the girl smiled a blinding smile, a heart smile.

Draco, catching his breath, was surprised to realize he was smiling back.

* * *

><p>Hope you liked! Until next time, dear readers.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks very much for the lovely reviews, lovely reviewers!

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><p>Lucius contemplated Hermione carefully. After the luncheon, he had Apparated them to the park by her house, planning to discuss the day as they walked back. For a while, they lounged beneath the last warmth of the September sun, unspeaking. He leaned against a tree, long legs stretched out; Hermione nestled her small form against his side, softly drowsing.<p>

The day had gone well, Lucius thought. The girl seemed on good terms in particular with Daphne Greengrass and Geoffrey Macht's boy, Julian. Hermione had been pleasantly surprised by the mini celebration of her birthday, and even clapped her small hands in delight when Teasby had brought out the seven-tiered lemon cake.

Yes, Lucius mused lazily. He had done well.

He had gathered the gifts from the other children into a wooden chest, which he'd Vanished and sent to the girl's room. Invisible, of course, to Muggle eye. She could play with them later. For now, he wanted her focused on her impressions of the gathering.

Hermione stirred beside him, peeping out at him from beneath her curls. "I had a nice time, Lucius. Thanks."

He brushed back her hair with his fingers so he could see her properly. "I'm glad. I trust all the children were kind?"

"Yes. And no," she snickered. "A few tried to test me, some more rudely than others. Which," she told him solemnly, "was quite vexing. But I'm used to-I mean, I've never met people my own age who are so _interesting_."

"Oh?" Lucius asked, absently still stroking her hair.

"We had a fascinating conversation about Hogwarts," she said happily, "and all kinds of theories. Julian has read so much, and he told me about all kinds of rare books his father has in their library." She sighed. "It was _wonderful_."

He smiled indulgently. "Better than _my_ library?" he questioned playfully.

She swatted his chest. "Well you've never actually let me _inside_ your library. So how would I know?"

"Well, I've brought you a few books from there, which you've seemed to enjoy. How about you pop over again sometime? I'll let you browse to your heart's content."

"Oh, well thank you!" Hermione snuggled back against him. "That's mighty fine of you, sir."

"I mean it," Lucius said seriously. He pressed an object into her hand. "I haven't given you your birthday present yet."

She scrambled upright to have a look. In her hand lay a silver brooch, elegantly crafted in the shape of the Malfoy crest: two dragons flanking a crossed sword and crown, with an 'M' in the center. Silver laurels curved around the crest, and underlined the Malfoy motto: _Solem ferre possum_.

Hermione repeated the words wonderingly. "What do they mean?"

Lucius made a mental note to instruct the girl in Latin, once of the most Magically powerful languages. "I can bear the sun," he said solemnly. "The Malfoy words. This brooch is special, Hermione. It's more than it seems."

She turned questioning eyes on him. "How do you mean?"

"It also acts as a port directly to my home. The library and my study, more specifically. The key has been marked specially for you...it will just be a piece of silver to anyone else."

"How do I use it?"

"Just touch it and think of wanting to come to Malfoy Manor. There's more." He closed his fingers over Hermione's so that they both clasped the brooch. "If you're ever in trouble, real trouble, I shall know."

She looked deeply into his eyes.

"I'll sense it. I need to know you're safe, Hermione."

"It's beautiful." Hermione raised her hand to touch his jaw lightly. Her amber eyes seemed darker in the bronze light, softer and older...something like a small sadness glimmered. "I shall treasure it...as I treasure you."

Unable to speak, Lucius pressed the girl against him. How remarkable, that simple twist of fate that led him to her...he ached to know what time would bring, who this child really was, and who she would become.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, as Hermione nodded off, clutching the brooch to her chest. Then Lucius asked, "How was Draco?"

"Mmm?" the girl replied sleepily.

"My son. How did you find him?"

She replied, eyes still closed. "He was very nice. He looks a lot like you."

Lucius frowned a little. That was all? He'd hoped they would make more of a connection. But perhaps his Hermione was simply weary.

He nudged her gently. "Come on. It's time I got you back home."

She groaned a little, but obediently rose to her feet. They walked back, hand in hand.

Lucius, accustomed to a talkative Hermione, cast a sideways glance at the girl. She looked to be half asleep already. "Come on, little one," he said with a sigh, and gathered her unresisting form into his arms, casting a disillusionment charm on them both.

Her head came to rest against his chest again as Lucius walked, hand closing against his shoulder like a content and dozing kitten. "Lucius," she murmured softly.

Hermione was asleep before she could finish the sentence.

* * *

><p>Draco paced in his study, as he never did.<p>

Why were his thoughts racing like this? The luncheon had been successful: Hermione had made friends in the group. Aside from Crabbe's little game, there had been no confrontations. She had assimilated well.

So why did he feel so sick?

He collapsed into his chair at the head of the mahogany table.

Draco suddenly realized what was bothering him.

In his plans, Draco had imagined that he was the one she would look to for protection and guidance. In his mind, _he _was the one who held her attention, charmed her, _he _was the one she would follow and look up to and rely upon.

But Hermione had simply floated in and charmed his circle. She much to learn, true...but she could hold her own even now. Anyone could see that.

Draco frowned. He needed to figure her out, so he could establish leadership. He would have to work on her, continually put himself in positions where he would be compelled to teach her.

What was it about her that was so hard to pin down? It felt like she was everywhere and nowhere at once.

He massaged his temples wearily. This would require careful planning.

* * *

><p>When Hermione awoke at first light, she found herself in her own bed, sheets tucked firmly around her. Raising her arms above her head, she stretched, sighing like a cat. Spying the wooden chest at the foot of her bed, she slid out of bed and padded around her room to have a look.<p>

The chest was locked.

That's when Hermione noticed the small heavy iron key hanging round her neck on a thin chain. Tilting her head, she quirked one side of her mouth in a pleased smile. She knelt and tried the key. It unlocked.

She locked it again, removed the key, and quickly scanned the room for a hiding place.

There, in the pocket of space between her dresser and the wall. She hung the key there.

Then Hermione retrieved the key, unlocked the chest delightedly, and finally took out her presents.

Sometimes her parents remembered, and came home with plastic toys or bags of candy or stuffed animals.

These "trinkets" were of a different sort entirely.

From Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, likely chosen and coordinated by their parents, Hermione had been given a stationery set: sheets of creamy parchment, envelopes, sealing wax with a simple honeybee seal, a fine feather quill, and an ink pot.

From Tracey Davis, a metal and ribbon headband, woven with green and gold flowers. Theodore Nott, apparently perplexed by what gifts ten-year-old girls might be interested in, had simply given an Obscurus Books card for twenty five galleons. Pansy had presented her with a little green blown glass bottle of flowery perfume.

Hermione lined these gifts up neatly on the floor beside herself. She tried a dab of the perfume, sniffed, shrugged, and turned back the the chest.

Daphne offered a sweet gift: A _Young Lady's Guide to Ancient Wizarding Customs_. On the front page, she had transcribed, _For Hermione Granger on her tenth birthday. I know the Magic world must seem strange to you. My mother gave this to me when I was a little younger...it's time I passed it on. Hope it helps. Daphne_.

Touched, and immensely curious, Hermione set the book on her bedside table to read later. The other girl was certainly thoughtful...and very courteous, too.

She peeked back into the chest. Only two left in there. Julian Macht had given a small puzzle box of maple wood that changed each time she opened it. It was easy enough to solve, though, and the inside contained a simple gold ring of laurels.

Draco's gift was last. She unrolled a swathe of the softest fabric to find a cloak, tawny and red and gold.

A note in even bold script: _Autumn colors, to remind you of when we met. Happy Birthday, Hermione_.

She went to her mirror and tried it on. Pleased, she found dozens of little pockets sewn in. She tried a few twirls, enjoying the soft rustling sound. Finally, she took it off. Hung the cloak in her closet. Replaced the other presents in her chest.

One more gift.

It was under her pillow, the silver brooch from Lucius. She caressed it with a finger, then climbed back into bed, curled her fingers around it, and went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>Severus was immersed in his books, encased in the dark shelves of his home.<p>

Voldemort had given his a fortune, and he was paid well by his teaching post at Hogwarts, yet he still kept the small gloomy house he had grown up in by the sea. Ancient wooden walls were held upright by book shelves, which covered every spare bit of wall.

A scholar through and through.

An observer would question the sanity of the man. He hadn't eaten for over a day, and could count the number of hours he'd slept in the past few days on one hand. Dark shadows appeared beneath his eyes, in the hollows of his cheeks.

And still, he could find nothing of Hermione Granger. Nothing solid.

Tens of thousands of prophecies involved the rise of new and powerful witches and wizards. Many could refer to the girl. How could he go about researching something so unusual?

Severus frowned. What it boiled down to was what Hermione remembered. And what she had gleaned from the people who raised her. But how to address it with her? She was secretive at best, with a dubious sense of control.

Weeks of too little sleep finally caught up with the man. Still pondering the puzzle that was Hermione Granger, his eyes began to close, chin finally coming to rest on his arms, inky black hair pooled about him like shadows.

* * *

><p>OAN business was exhausting Lucius. By now, not only his inner circle, but also most in the Dark Wizarding population had heard of the strange, powerful young girl who had befriended the most notable family in the magical world.<p>

Rumors ran like wildfire.

She was Lord Voldemort's heir, a younger and more terrible Queen, she wasn't really a little girl, she was a sorceress in disguise. She wasn't even human.

Stranger reports about Lucius and Hermione's relationship.

Apparently, people we spying.

Lucius had grown so accustomed to acting a certain way around Hermione. Light-hearted, gentle, warm. He had forgotten how he was supposed to act: distant, reserved, icy-cold.

What kind of creature, people wondered, could hold a man like Lucius Malfoy in thrall? What power did she have over him?

An anonymous witch had interviewed with Diana Sharpe, reporter for the Daily Prophet. The article lay on his desk limply, like a rotten fruit.

_My source writes thusly: _

_"One of my good friends knows certain people in the OAN [Ordo Aurorae Novae] very well, very well indeed. Apparently the girl's got something different about her, some kind of weird energy emanating from her." _

_Energy? Emanating? While not uncommon in the Wizarding World, radiating power is generally a sign of being, well, _powerful_._ _But what my readers are really trying to figure out is how Lucius Malfoy is involved in this._

_As the head of OAN and owner of a good deal of the Ministry, the Malfoys are noted for generations of wealth and power. And for frosty little smirks; we all know what I mean. My source also reports something even stranger than a powerful little child-witch. _

_She claims that she saw the two, Lucius and Hermione, in a Muggle park, of all places. _

_"There was something real possessive about the way he was looking at her," she says. "As though she was something real special. I mean, _really special_."_

Lucius couldn't bring himself to finish the article. Possessive?

To have their "relationship" brought to light in such contorted, harsh, confining lines. He cared about the girl as well, not just her power, didn't he? He had held her in his arms, carried her safely home, given her presents, all because he felt tenderness for the child. She was vulnerable; she needed him, didn't she?

Just because he wanted her all to himself didn't mean he was _possessive_.

Disgusted with himself, Lucius penned a quick note to Severus Snape, informing the man that he was coming over.

He sent it off, then grabbed a cloak and Disapparated to the shore of the sea. He'd walk the remaining distance and give Severus some time to prepare for his visit.

Wind tore at him.

He welcomed the biting salt air, the hard rasp of the ocean. Gray skies reared, promising storms; Lucius lifted his face to the rain.

Locks of silver-gold hair flew free of the constraining ribbon. Disregarding his clothes, his duties, his usually impeccable image, Lucius collapsed against a huge boulder, boots halfway in the water. He buried his face in his hands.

What was he to do?

He didn't notice Severus until the man touched his shoulder.

"Lucius? What happened to you?"

He reached out blindly, fingers numb with September cold. "Severus, I've made a serious miscalculation."

* * *

><p>When Hermione awoke a couple hours later, at what she judged to be a more reasonable hour, she jumped out of bed at once when she remembered her new book.<p>

Dashing to her bathroom, she splashed water on her face (and nearly the entire room), wriggled into a red dress with purple stockings, snatched her new book from Daphne and a light jacket, and headed out the door.

She hated Mondays; her parents generally slept in and tended to their own problems, leaving Hermione to prepare herself for school.

Hermione hated school, too.

But with her new book to look forward to, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe her teachers would let her perform private study again, and she wouldn't have to interact with the other students.

It looked as though rain were imminent. She'd have to find a quiet corner in the library. Hermione slipped her hand in her pocket and touched the silver brooch she had hidden there. It comforted her to feel its weight in her hand.

Once well on her way, Hermione noticed an unusually large number of people milling around her neighborhood. Some were dressed in funny clothes, green cloaks and even a few top hats. Others looked vaguely normal.

All seemed to be busy on some errand or other; all seemed oddly focused on their business.

Hermione assessed the strange scene in a moment, eyes narrowed. In a flash of understanding, she pressed her lips firmly together, shrugging herself deeper into the folds of her jacket and letting the brooch fall from her fingers.

A close observer may have seen the cloud that crossed her small face, a symptom of sadness far too profound for a girl of her years.

* * *

><p>"What did you expect, Lucius?" Severus asked, his black eyes uncharacteristically soft in the dim light of his home. "We did all we could, we predicted what we could. So the Wizarding World has become aware of Hermione Granger. It was bound to, eventually."<p>

Lucius carded his fingers through his hair. "I never imagined such a response. And what they're saying about Hermione and me..." He broke off.

Severus shook his head. "They're just playing with mysteries. All they know is that you seem to care for the girl. Which is true."

When Lucius didn't reply, Severus sighed, now impatient. "Look. If anything, it helps us deal with the Hogwarts problem. People will be expecting something extraordinary from her. We help her conceal what she can, and deal with the rest."

Now Lucius looked up. "You're right, naturally. I don't mean to be dramatic-"

"Of course you do; you excel in melodrama," Severus cut in.

Lucius ignored his attempt at humor and continued. "-but I feel as though I've...as if I've let Hermione down in some way. She never wanted all the attention she's about to receive."

"I hadn't thought of that," Severus admitted, suddenly stricken. "You don't think...you don't think people are going to try and see her?"

Lucius raised his head, stunned. "We're going. Grab a cloak. We need to watch over her."

* * *

><p>Classes rolled on as normal for Hermione. Mostly the students left her alone, and the teachers, perhaps sensing her stormy mood, let her be. When the clock finally struggled to noon, Hermione didn't even join the others in the queue for food. Nor did she slip her new book from her locker.<p>

Hermione made a beeline for the library, an old wood and stone structure that creaked with every step.

It was the only place she felt at home in.

Finding a window seat in the stacks, Hermione settled down to watch the rain fall, arms wrapped around her legs. The clouds were lovely, silver with rain, gold with a hint of sun behind.

She wanted to embrace that chill wind, stand in the hazy pink light, feel the water running down her cheeks like tears.

Heedless of the cold, Hermione rose and made her way outside. Her hair turned to stringy strands in moments; her clothes were soaked through soon after. She didn't care.

She raised her arms and face, opening herself to the the thunder that rolled across the sky.

* * *

><p>They found her just after another wizard wearing large green eye glasses did. He was pacing forward in a way that put Lucius in the mind of a large rodent stalking his prey.<p>

Lucius sprinted up to them, gray cloak streaming behind.

"Hey, you're that girl everyone's talking 'bout, aren't you?"

Hermione turned, appraised him coolly with those ancient amber eyes.

Seemingly not put off by her silence, the man took a step forward. "I can see what they meant about you. You're just a little girl, a pretty little thing, too. But there's definitely _something_ different. I wonder..."

Lucius had heard enough. When Severus caught up behind him, he sent him a look. Just as he was about to cast a spell, Severus gripped his arm.

"Hold up. I want to see how she handles this."

"I don't-"

Severus tightened his hold. "Just wait."

They watched Hermione step forward calmly, almost too close to the older man. She tilted her head, eying the stranger curiously. "You know me? I've never heard about _you_. Doesn't seem very fair now, does it?"

The man laughed awkwardly. "Just wait a mo'-"

"Do you know this is a private area, sir?" Hermione continued, sounding reasonable. "It's a Muggle school. I can see you don't belong here, unless you have some business with me?"

"Had to see you for meself, didn't I?"

Hermione's voice sounded hard as a silver bell. "Why?"

"Everyone's talking 'bout you. 'Bout your powers." His voice was odd; he spoke quickly, as though being compelled. "Wanted some for meself, didn't I. And here you are, unprotected, twirlin' in the rain. Pretty little thing." He reached out, as though he couldn't help himself.

Lucius and Severus, watching, detected no visible change in the girl's posture. Yet there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The rain had stopped, and the clearing was suddenly eerily silent. The girl eyed the man too closely. She smiled too calmly.

She looked like a hungry cat.

The man froze.

"You wanted my powers," Hermione repeated softly. She stepped closer still to the man; he cringed visibly, backing up a step."

"It weren't me, I swear it-"

"Enough," commanded the girl, with a tone of horrible finality. She placed her hands on the man's cheeks.

For a terrifying moment, Lucius vividly recalled the scene in which he met Hermione. The man's bones had been crushed, skin torn like paper.

The air was crackling with the same fiery heat. The girl's face held the same hard fury.

Were he and Severus about to witness a heinous act?

But the girl simply spoke in that imperious voice, as the man stood stock still with fear. "You will not try to find me again. You will instruct these others to cease as well. You will _not_ steal powers. Now leave."

When she finally stepped back, Lucius saw a darkening spot on the man's robe; he had wet himself.

Stumbling back, the man looked at the girl like she were about to slay him then and there. Then he stiffly Disapparated, leaving Hermione alone with Lucius and Severus in the growing darkness.

Hermione bowed her head.

She spoke to the men without turning. "Can you explain?" she asked too softly.

Lucius took a step forward, raising placating arms. "Hermione, we've never seen that man-"

"_Can you explain_?" Hermione whirled suddenly, face white. "Can you tell me why this man wanted to find me? Wanted to steal _my_ magic? Can you?"

He stopped. Swallowed. "You piqued the interest of your friends and their parents. A few probably shared that interest. I told you before, you're extraordinary-"

"That's why you invited me over, isn't it? So you could show me off to your friends."

Anger and indignation left over from the Diana Sharpe article surged. Lucius stepped forward, said harshly, "No. No, that's not why. I wanted you to meet my family, have children your own age to play with-"

"Because I don't get along with people here. I see. "And how would you know that, Lucius? Have you been following me, too? Want a taste of my magic?"

Pain swept through him at her implications. This was too much. A sigh tumbled from him, unbidden; he couldn't move. "_Hermione_," he breathed softly.

The fury left her like a wind. The mask the girl had been wearing fell.

What he saw then was only worse, an expression of startled, bewildered hurt that haunted Lucius for nights after.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione whispered.

Lucius fell to his knees, aware of Severus watching behind him. The rain had started again, soaking through his clothes and hair, running down his cheeks like tears. The hazy pink light had deepened to a red-gray; storm clouds slashed the sky.

"Just _you_," he said finally. "Whatever that means."

Hermione stood wordlessly, gazing into his eyes, lips slightly parted, crimson from the cold. A shaft of gold light caressed her hair; wind tugged at her dress.

"_Hermione_," Lucius repeated. "I saw a frightened little girl, those long weeks ago. I found your power intriguing...and I admit, enticing."

Her face was utterly still, a marble figure beneath the rain.

"But now, now I don't _care_ about your power. I don't care that you could be the next Dark Queen. Hermione, it's just you. Only you."

He caught the questioning light in her eyes at his mention of his and Severus' most cherished hope for her. He hadn't meant to let that slip...but something deep inside Lucius urged him to honesty.

That's what the girl would respond to. His only chance at regaining her.

"I didn't know they'd be all over you, I swear..."

Malfoys never begged. But his pride, his ambition, his sense of propriety were all vanished.

All that mattered was Hermione.

"Don't send me from your sight," Lucius managed.

She blinked, seeming suddenly unsure. A softness passed over her face and departed swiftly as autumn leaves.

"I'm going back to class," Hermione finally said flatly.

She headed back inside without another word, though not before Lucius glimpsed that bewildered pain once more.

* * *

><p>My thanks for reading!<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

So happy you're all enjoying the story! Sorry this one took a while...dealing with a little heartbreak...

* * *

><p>"Hermione looks just like this drawing of a young woman," Severus muttered distractedly, pawing through his shelves, "In one of my history volumes."<p>

Lucius collapsed onto a squashy black sofa. "After all that just happened, you're going on about a history book?" He heaved a tremendous sigh, head lolling back onto the cushions. "I think I'm broken."

Severus rolled his eyes, ignoring the man. "It may help us discover her parentage. And there must be some kind of documentation or contemplative scholarly writing about that other thing..."

His friend was completely lost, and at this point, nonchalantly inelegant. "Hmm?"

"That _heat_, obviously! Didn't you feel the heat she was radiating?"

Lucius frowned. "I sensed a kind of...electricity. Now you remind me, it did feel a bit warm."

"And it stopped raining, just around us." Severus finally gave up searching for the volume, and walked over to sit across from Lucius. "Isn't _that_ peculiar."

The two men sat in companionable silence for a few moments, each pondering the exceptional little creature that had strayed into their lives.

Each man felt intensely protective of Hermione...yet it seemed she required none of it. How could a young girl possess, not only such powers, but the instinctive skill to wield them? As though she had lived with them for millennia...

Lucius' fascination with the girl had sharpened into something akin to obsession. Was it for her, merely a pretty child? Or her potentiality, the figure both men senses she would become? His affection was fatherly tenderness, wasn't it?

He was the first to voice the thought. "Do you think the article was true, Severus? I'm not...you don't think I'm _possessive_ of her?"

When Severus seemed to give the question real thought, Lucius sighed. "I am, aren't I. I don't mean to be, but there's something in her that..._pulls_ me."

Severus came to attention. "Pulls you? How?"

"I just...I simply feel like I need to be around her. Why do you ask?"

Mind spinning, he replied, "Rather like that wizard she just dealt with was _drawn_ to her." Severus leaned forward. "Did the other children at the luncheon act strangely around her?"

Lucius shrugged. "I suppose so. Draco warned them to be nice to her, though. I have no idea. I really don't."

Severus leaned his head on his hand, exasperated. When Lucius Malfoy fell into one of his melodramatic spirals, there was no serious conversation with him.

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir." Lucius murmured, glaring dramatically at the lamp in one corner of the room. "Because I'm not myself, you see."

Severus had had enough. If the man was going to quote _Alice in Wonderland_ at him, it was time he got some sleep. "Alright, old boy. Time to get you home." He stood in a fluid motion and offered his hand.

Bizarrely reminded of the words he had spoken to Hermione the previous day, Lucius began to laugh.

But he took the arm and stood obediently. "Until later, Severus."

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore rummaged through his desk drawers for some shortbread. Several sources had notified him at length of a strange and strangely powerful little girl, and he'd whiled away the entire morning reading their voluminous reports. He was exhausted.<p>

Albus needed lunch.

Where were those Merlin-forsaken little sugar loaves? Ah. On the rafters, naturally.

He magically levitated the cookies into his hand, and began munching happily. Nothing like eating shortbread for a meal, and being old enough so that no one told him off.

An owl tapped on the glass. Startled, Albus dropped his lunch. "Oh, bother..." He muttered, dusting off his hands and making his way to retrieve the note. The owl, a lovely blue black color, swooped into his office impertinently, snatching the remaining shortbread off the floor and dropping it into his beak.

Only an owl belonging to Severus Snape could be that impudent.

But Albus paid the creature little heed. He was curious to know what the young man made of this Hermione Granger. He read:

_She's good. Right to the heart, she's good_.

That was all? Albus turned over the note. No signature, nothing about how Severus was doing...typical. Well, if Severus Snape said she was good, then Albus would believe him. Severus had a knack for knowing this sort of thing.

The Lily business would haunt both men for their entire lives, after all. Those were the exact words Severus had used, years ago, to describe Lily Evans. _Right to the heart, she's good_. A sudden thought brought a frown to his lips. If the girl physically resembled Lily, Severus might be too distracted to see the deeper truth...but no. No, Albus thought, stroking his beard idly. That wasn't how Severus' brain worked.

The owl, reasoning that if Albus was going to pet something, it ought to be _him_, flew to a perch by the old man and poked his beak under the man's hand. Albus stroked his head feathers absently.

They had a little less than a year before Hermione Granger came to Hogwarts. Severus could take care of her until then, and keep Albus posted.

And then if Severus and Albus kept an eye or two on the girl while she was at school, perhaps she wouldn't make any trouble. But for now, with the Dark families in an uproar, and half the Light families beginning to catch wind of this discovery, things could get a wee bit messy.

He rather thought he would like to meet her himself.

But if nothing else, Albus Dumbledore was patient. He knew all to well the dangers of inserting his long nose into other people's business-in fact, it was one of his favorite hobbies. But if Severus felt he had things under control for the moment, Albus was content to wait.

After all, he needed to make a trip to Honeydukes to replenish his stock.

* * *

><p>Hermione hadn't seen or heard of Lucius in a couple weeks, and she was starting to miss her lessons. Lucius Malfoy was a wealth of knowledge on a world she found fascinating. Who else could she ask about the strange etiquette she read about in A <em>Young Lady's Guide to Ancient Wizarding Customs<em>, such as the strict rules on how many stones a person could or could not wear in her diadem.

He was waiting for her to come to him, she sensed. Just as she knew his grief the other day had been genuine.

She sat against his tree, gazing at her wilting fairy flowers, the ones Lucius had called "bleeding hearts". Her name was better, of course, but she could understand the other. That's what he had looked like when she left him at her school, the same cracked heart, same cheeks wilting, same sickening soul.

Still, that did nothing to diminish the sting of his pale games. Lucius was working too hard for her approval...working too hard so he could _win_ her. Like a trophy.

What that meant, Hermione couldn't say. But her every instinct said to flee. If she stayed, even if she taught them some sense, they would still catch her, the ones that she had loved. They would find her and trap her in their little golden cages, and she'd never be free to wander the worlds.

And that she could never allow.

Even Lucius Malfoy, who had unveiled himself for her, who had finally allowed _himself _to confront the truth, she couldn't trust. Lucius Malfoy, who was above all _interesting_, her little puzzle, her magnificent game. Who carried a kind heart, unlike so many.

Hermione rose, touching the tree behind her for support. A light breeze tousled her hair, and she laughed unexpectedly, raising her cheeks to the wind.

Sudden pity tugged the strings of her heart. She would be on her guard, but perhaps she could grant him one more chance. Since he had wished for it.

Rising still further, Hermione stood on a yard or so of air, hovering over the ground. She felt light-hearted, suddenly, carefree. She craved the wind, the sky, the aerial world. She wanted to see the tangled earth far below her; she wanted to touch the sun.

Hermione had just launched into the air when she frowned. Something to do first, something on earth...

Ah, yes. She spiraled down, lowering gently to her feet. The bleeding hearts, her fairy flowers. She bent and kissed one lightly, running tender fingers over the others, pleased as the fading petals glowed with life once more, bruises falling from the soft flowers, stems strengthening with vivid green.

Then she spread her arms and leaped, losing all memory of self in the blinding joy of flight.

* * *

><p>Lucius was moping in his study.<p>

Well, he told himself he was busily attending to OAN matters. But the truth was, with Hermione's disappearance, Lucius Malfoy was on tenterhooks. He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on the girl for...

For what?

To brighten his day? For amusement? For that alien experience of tenderness in his heart? He swallowed. Was it for her power?

But no. He had been utterly honest with the girl that day. He felt a great, sweeping affection for her, a warmth that filled his heart.

He bent over some parchments, feigning interest in the clauses for a bill that was passing through the Ministry. In had been thirteen days. What was wrong with him?

Abruptly, inexplicably, something in him _changed_. A light kindled his mind and soul.

It was as though Hermione had whispered in his ear, or touched his hair with those small tender fingers. Pain fell away; the glow of peace settled over him.

_Forgiveness_.

He fell back against his chair, feeling drained, half-broken, wearied to the bone. His penance was done.

* * *

><p>Draco and Daphne were drinking tea in the East Wing study, deep in conversation about Hermione Granger.<p>

She had become one of Draco's favorite subjects.

More than anyone else, he trusted Daphne. She had a special ability to be fiercely tranquil and tranquilly ferocious, much like his own mother. And he trusted and appreciated her judgment as well, knowing her to be a sound and logical thinker.

Yet she wasn't picking up on whatever it was that rankled Draco about Hermione.

"She really was quite lovely," Daphne said, smiling. "I know she must feel so much pressure, now she's all over the papers. But I haven't heard one word of complaint from her."

"Well," said Draco, somewhat vexed by Hermione's silence, "We haven't heard as much as a peep from her since she came over. Maybe she is complaining, wherever she is."

Daphne shot a half-bemused, half-exasperated glance at him. "Just because _you_ didn't hear from her doesn't mean _I_ didn't."

"I...what? You-you've received a note? She never replied to my follow-up!" Draco grimaced. He _never_ stuttered that badly.

But Daphne had the grace to avoid looking smug. "I expect it's because we're both girls, Draco. She simply wrote that she enjoyed her time with me and looked forward to more socializing in the future. Very sweet, yes?"

Draco looked away. Hermione should have written to him as well, then. But he said: "She is sweet, yes. Perhaps we should invite her over again, just us."

"That would be lovely, I am sure," said Daphne calmly. Draco sensed a hesitation in her, though it was gracefully masked. "She does seem a touch flighty...I think the more flighty people are pursued, the more they will evade."

He frowned inwardly. What did that mean? He masked a dismissive shrug with a courteous nod. "As you say, Daphne."

She might have perceived his discomfort, for she switched topics lightly. "How's the tutoring? Is old Abelard still withholding Dark Magic lessons until you polish up your history?"

"My knowledge of history is fine!" Draco protested, looking mock-offended. "Just because I don't care to devote an entire week to Elbert the Goblin Slayer and his genocides doesn't mean I don't _know_ it!"

Daphne laughed. "So _you_ say. I'm just repeating what Abelard told me, when he revealed that_ I'm_ his favorite!"

The rest of the afternoon passed easily, with the two bantering lightly and soundly abusing their absent-minded old tutor. Draco could laugh with Daphne, really laugh...she brought out a softness in him, something Draco suspected his father would never approve of. In those secret times in that private chamber with Daphne, he could relax his defenses.

Yet that night, he tossed and turned in his bed. Why couldn't he get his mind off Hermione? He needed...something from her.

But what?

Realizing he wouldn't sleep, Draco pulled open his bed curtains, tied on a soft black robe, and padded to his study. Grabbing quill and parchment from a drawer, he wrote:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I would love the pleasure of your company soon, here at Malfoy Manor. Perhaps we could go riding? I thought a picnic might be nice. Whatever you like. Daphne is coming, too._

_Awaiting your reply, Draco  
><em>

It was hastily penned, not like the elegantly drafted letters he had sent before...but it was all he could do now.

Draco hardly remembered walking back to his chambers, just the softness of pillows on his cheek.

* * *

><p>It was a brisk Saturday, gentle rain clouds pooling in the southern sky. The air was heavy as Lucius made his way through Hermione Granger's Muggle neighborhood, but his step was light.<p>

After all, this would be the first time he had seen her in over two weeks.

The Muggle houses on the Muggle streets with the Muggle people would once have disgusted Lucius Malfoy. But now, he paid them little heed.

The neat little garden Lucius had noticed when he first came to her was all but faded. He saw a few remnants of what might have been carrots, but little else, save specks of patient green here and there.

He halted beneath his tree, letting his mind form the silent call.

Hermione responded at once, touching his mind lightly with her own, indicating more with thought than words that she'd be down momentarily.

Heart racing, Lucius bowed his head. Draco had informed casually him some days ago that Hermione Granger was coming, and please instruct the elves to ready the horses and a picnic basket for three.

Almost as a response to his wonder, a had note arrived in his study, bearing a honeybee seal. He waited with his usual composure, opening the letter calmly, though his fingers felt thick as tree trunks.

_Pick me up at noon? Hermione_

A brief note, yet it contained so much. _Forgiveness_, Lucius remembered.

His eyes lingered on the bed of bleeding hearts. Theirs were the brightest colors in the yard. Or indeed, Lucius noted, on the street. Perhaps some magic was working on them?

Hermione had once informed him that she saw Fae creatures among the flowers. Perhaps the magic belonged to them.

Lucius blinked. The flowers reminded him of something..._something_. He could almost see it in his mind's eye, an elegant form in the forest darkness, glowing gently-

But then there was Hermione, sliding down from her roof as usual, landing catlike on her feet. She was garbed in the cloak his son had had made for her, red and gold and amber, and it rustled around her small form like the feathers of some exotic bird as she came to meet him.

They stood silently, gazing at one another for a moment.

Then she asked with her characteristic spirited curiosity, "Why do wizards have such strange customs?"

Lucius was shocked, briefly, into silence. Then he burst out laughing, giddiness rising from his stomach to his lips like bubbles.

He proffered an arm. "I'll answer your questions on the way," he offered.

"I'm counting on it," Hermione replied with an answering grin.

* * *

><p>Daphne giggled as the horse batted the top of Hermione's head, wanting to be petted.<p>

"She likes you," she observed.

A bemused smile lit Hermione's face as she reached up to touch the horse's mane. "I've never been this close to a horse before! She's so...so tall!"

Draco nodded. "Alanna is a mare, well-sized, but you should see my father's stallion, he towers over her."

Hermione glanced at him, smiling. "The unicorns I've seen are much smaller. I'd expected them to look the same as the horses, somehow."

Draco and Daphne paused, unsure of what she meant. She had _seen_ unicorns?

"Unicorns in paintings, you mean?" Draco asked carefully. "I suppose they look similar."

An emotion passed too swiftly over Hermione's face to be noticed, except by the sharp eyes of Daphne.

She said lightly, "You'd know better than I would, Hermione. I've never seen one."

When Hermione met her eyes, Daphne knew she had said the right thing.

She might have continued the conversation, tried to learn more about the strange creatures Hermione had seen, but the other girl changed the subject. "I suppose you two have been riding all your lives," she commented.

"Since before I was born," Draco put in. He was about to say more about his riding prowess, when Daphne interjected, inwardly irritated by his block-headedness.

"It'll come quickly to you, Hermione. The hardest part is getting people to feel comfortable with the animals, and vice versa." She grinned at the sight of Alanna nosing around Hermione for more apples. "And you seem to be well beyond that!"

Hermione giggled. "I should fetch more fruit for along the way."

"I've packed some in the baskets," Draco assured her, gesturing to the paniers on Betsy, a fourth horse. "I suspect our mounts shall make good use of them."

"Our fine steeds," Hermione replied gleefully. "I have long wanted to go galloping in the wind."

"Hair flying behind you," Daphne added playfully.

"Riding into the sunset..."

The girls laughed together.

Draco joined in, feeling slightly uncomfortable. The two nteracted like old friends.

"Everyone ready?" he called.

"Sure," Daphne replied. She exchanged a glance with Hermione, and mounted her horse, slow as she could without being too obvious.

Watching her movements, Hermione asked, "She can take all my weight?"

When Daphne nodded serenely, Hermione placed her foot into the stirrup.

"You're going to want to use more force than you think to swing-" Draco broke off. Hermione had easily slid into position, and was now patting her horse comfortably, holding the reins loosely.

Draco blinked. That seemed simple enough for her. But someone with no riding experience would be utterly lost on how to use the reins. He opened his mouth to instruct the girl, when Daphne rode up beside him.

"Why don't you get mounted, Draco? We can help if she needs it along the way."

Her subtle indication was clear: let Hermione be, until she asks.

Draco raised his eyebrows dubiously, but climbed up and set his horse into a circle around the girls. If Hermione was injured, it wouldn't be his fault. "Coming, then?"

"We're ready," said Daphne, guiding her horse to move gently forward. She attempted to make her movements as even and easy to follow as possible...yet she had the strangest feeling that Hermione would be just fine.

Only a few hours with the other girl had taught Daphne to expect the unexpected.

She was right. Within the hour, Hermione was riding as easily as the other two, was, as she had wished, truly galloping in the wind.

Observing her closely, Daphne noticed the girl wasn't using the reins, except as loose handholds. Her legs, perhaps, guided the horse's movements, but it seemed more to be a flowing transfer of thought directly from Hermione into the animal. She would look one way, distracted by some flash of color, or an interesting cloud, and the horse would follow.

Daphne looked down at her own mount, a chestnut mare. It was possible, she reasoned. Anything was, she felt, when it came to Hermione.

In the late afternoon, the three settled down in a gently sloping meadow for food, letting the horses graze around them. The elves had packed small loaves of crusty bread and olive oil with herbs, a soft white goat cheese, and flasks of sweet briar tea. Another basket contained apples and small lumps of sugar for the horses.

Time passed easily.

Draco watched Daphne and Hermione, feeling slightly jealous of the girl. But he reasoned the two were so close simply because they shared the same gender...he could deal with that. So long as he was her closest friend after that.

Unease was a tiny prickle along his spine. The girl was courteous to him, laughed at his jokes, and listened with a calm smile when he tried to explain concepts to her. Yet he felt a barrier between them, as though the girl wasn't particularly interested in him at all.

It made him crave her even more.

But Draco was patient. He could give her time. He and Hermione and Daphne would be thick as thieves by the time school started, he was certain of it.

Near suppertime, the trio headed back to the manor. It was growing chilly quickly, sweaty as they were from the ride.

Daphne sighed comfortably, patting her horse absently as they rode slowly back. "I think I'll sleep well tonight. I haven't ridden in a while."

"Me neither," Draco agreed, glancing at her. "I had a lovely day with you two."

Hermione, smiling, said "So did I. I never knew riding could be such hard work!"

Laughing, Daphne agreed. "I hope we can do this again, just us." She nodded at Hermione. "I hope you'll come often."

Hermione did.

* * *

><p>In the months that followed, the three spent more and more time together. Lucius had the brilliant idea of letting Hermione attend some of Draco's tutoring sessions with Abelard...yet far more often, Lucius gave her private lessons himself.<p>

Draco, observing the girl working at magic during their sessions together, became more and more uneasy about the power she wielded. Everything was instinctual for her, every spell as natural as breathing. Her magic spread elsewhere, it seemed, to every deed and thought. She charmed the old tutor as lightly as a spring rain, charmed his entire circle so they looked to her like the famished to a tree of golden fruit.

Still, she appeared resilient to Draco's attempts at guiding her, which left him confused and angry.

After all, Daphne and Hermione got along well; why shouldn't Draco, too?

Yet it was deeper than that. For Hermione kept secrets even from Daphne, who was, from what they could tell, her closest companion. Unpredictably, she'd disappear for days, and neither Draco nor Daphne, or even Lucius, would hear from her.

They figured it wasn't personal; after these disappearances, Hermione would pop back, as cheerful as ever, wearing that mischievous little grin.

Lucius knew, Draco thought, where the girl spent her time on those occasions. Yet he never enlightened his son, and his eyes would grow cold whenever Draco pressed him for information.

Troubled, Draco would turn to his studies, preparing for...for _something_. Hogwarts, his mind said. But he knew there was more, there was something else he was searching for, though he could never understand.

Always, always, Draco watched for a letter from Hermione, for some bird to tap on the glass. He never learned whose birds they were, but they always came to him tame as dogs.

She and Draco finally did share a moment in the quiet Malfoy Library. Both were curled beneath soft gray wool blankets on the squashy chairs by a window. The sky outside was white with the first snow; a pale light drifted in, silent as a sunrise.

They had been discussing Bertrand Bolton, a scholar they each particularly enjoyed, when Draco sighed, let words fall from his lips carelessly as leaves.

"See, this is what I'd love to do my whole life. Just discuss theories of Magic and write my own."

Hermione tilted her head, eyes bright and curious. "So why don't you?"

"My father," Draco answered softly. "He wants me to be like him, like all my forefathers, and enter politics."

Hermione stared at him for a time. Then she said, gently, "You are like him, a little. But you're much better at being yourself."

To which Draco found no answer but a consenting silence. Then: "I am good at politics."

She waited.

"I might even dabble a little, given time. It's just...I don't want to be forced into anything, you know? I feel like my father has me on a little leash, and he pulls me where he thinks I should be."

He couldn't look at her, embarrassed at revealing so much of what he had only hinted at to Daphne. And Hermione loved his father, Draco knew. How would she react?

An impulse compelled him, tugged at his senses. Perhaps the girl had uttered a soft wordless cry; perhaps she had opened her eyes in his heart.

He finally raised his eyes to meet Hermione's.

She was suddenly very close, her eyes glowing softly in that eerie, snowy light. "I know exactly how you feel, Draco," she crooned.

He didn't know how she could possibly know, didn't know anything, in fact, about her parents, other than they were Muggles. But he knew suddenly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Hermione _understood_.

Draco quivered under the sphinx gaze, heartbeat melding with her own, becoming her own, and outside the wind rose and fell and the ages rose and fell, and still Hermione held his hand, fingers strong as talons and as gentle as a wish.

A strange yearning swept through him, to be free, to take flight, to find his own path in the sky, Hermione beside him, her amber eyes with that soft dark look, the sphinx look, that peered deep to his soul, and something inside Draco whispered, _I will follow you_.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! More later.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Hello again! Thanks to some more lovely reviewers!

* * *

><p>Diagon Alley was bursting with red-cheeked, laughing shoppers clutching brown-wrapped packages and steaming drinks and generally creating a ruckus. Lucius guided Hermione through the masses with a hand on her lower back.<p>

She'd been to Diagon Alley previously, he knew, having found her there, terrified, straddling a mutilated corpse. But he figured that didn't much count for exploration, and anyway, they needed to finish their shopping before they attracted too much attention.

Already, Lucius had caught a gaggle of wizards gawking at her, unsure at who they were seeing. Then there was Gordon Goyle, the great clod, who had approached, slipping on the snowy streets, calling Hermione's name. Or the witches lurking moodily by the Apothecary, or that despised brood of red-haired Light Wizards goggling at them...rumor, it seemed, was fast making Hermione legend. Lucius had swiftly ushered her away on all instances, glaring coldly behind him. The Malfoy reputation had been enough reason for them to back off.

He wasn't just there to show her Diagon Alley; Christmastime would be the worst occasion for that. But she needed dress robes for the Yuletide ball the Malfoys threw annually, not to mention jewels, and what's more, he wanted to spoil her a little.

He had watched Hermione's face when she was recognized. Despite the previous discomfort which had brought about that harsh little altercation at her school, she would gaze calmly at whoever was pointing at her or staring, starstruck. Then she would turn a small, enigmatic smile back at Lucius, and allow herself to be directed away from the bystanders.

They didn't speak much; the icy streets were too loud and busy for conversation. But when Hermione spotted the dress robes in Madam Malkins' windows, she gasped with delight.

"Like the goddess Rhiannon!" she cried, giggling happily, eying a golden brocade of silk.

Another shopper, attracted by the golden sound hovering in the air like a bell, turned his head in Hermione's direction.

Maneuvering himself so the girl's back was to the shopper, Lucius smiled. "Would you like to try cloth-of-gold robes first?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Of course. I'm a dragon, remember?"

It took him a moment to remember Muggles believed dragons hoarded gold...a fancy likely stemming from their golden-colored eggs. He let out a surprised laugh. "Indeed, little one. I remember."

Two hours later saw the pair Disapparating from Diagon Alley, Lucius holding a cup of hot spiced tea, hot cocoa with an enormous tower of whipped cream clutched in Hermione's small hands. After finding suitable robes, Lucius had steered the girl through shop after shop, adding a golden torque, bracelets, a tiara, and other jewels to his purchases, secretly including a little golden comb woven with rubies that Lucius caught Hermione admiring. Then there were little crimson slippers to match the robes, and a deep spicy perfume with a touch of cinammon that seemed to suit the girl.

After hours of shopping and constant worry that Hermione would be mobbed, Lucius was drained. But happy, immensely happy.

He watched Hermione, with that indefatiguable energy, sprint into her home, turning and waving before she slipped inside the warmth.

He sighed in relief. Things had gone well since the trouble at her school. Draco had been inviting her over at least a couple times a week, and they'd spend hours riding, reading quietly together and discussing theories in low voices, or practicing Magic in the gardens. More often than not, with Daphne Greengrass by their side.

But enough of these thoughts: Lucius was required to at least _pretend_ to assist his wife in the Yule Ball preparations. Casting his eyes about furtively, Lucius Malfoy turned out his heel and disappeared with a _crack_.

* * *

><p>A wealthy socialite witch wandered through her closet, absently searching for a set of dress robes. "The silver or green, Marishka?"<p>

Her friend popped her head in. "Which silver? With the gray trimming or the red piping?"

"Neither. The new silver with green lining and the matching tiara."

Marishka examined the robes in question, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Those are stunning, Alena," she admitted, nodding at the silver set. "But the green really show off your...figure."

Alena laughed, tossing her blonde curls. "Delicately put, Marishka. But as much as I love showing off this bosom, I have other plans for the Ball."

"Like what?" Marishka asked, still eying the emerald set of robes, and the bodice slashed almost to the belly.

Alena spun, giving her friend a sharp look. "_Hermione Granger_, of course. Everybody is itching to learn more about her."

That caught Marishka's attention. "Did you see the article in yesterday's _Prophet_? With the photograph?"

She replaced the dress robes on one of the racks with care, gesturing at the maplewood bed in the other room. "Should be on the bed. I just love how protective Lucius Malfoy looks, don't you?"

"Wouldn't know. I admit, I only just heard of her." Marishka ducked out and quickly scanned the room, finally spotting the paper on the vanity. She went over and began flipping through the pages until she found the large moving picture of Lucius and Hermione in Diagon Alley.

Though there was no sound, the little girl was clearly exclaiming over a lady's gown of clouded gold and bronze silk that hung in a shop window. A gaggle of blurry witches and wizards in the background were begining to stare and point, and the photographer had managed to snap a photo just as Lucius Malfoy had put his hand on the oblivious girl's back to shield her from the prying eyes.

"Strange-looking little creature," Marishka murmured, idly twining a strand of dark hair about her finger.

"What's that?" asked Alena, who had just followed her friend into the chamber.

"I said the little girl looks...interesting."

Alena stepped over to have a look. "Interesting? Hmmm. I suppose so. Astonishing eyes, yes? Maybe she'll grow into her looks. Doesn't really seem to matter though, does it?"

"Why not?"

"Well, I mean everyone's really clamouring over her Magic. She's said to be even more powerful than the Dark Lord. She's famous enough that she doesn't particularly need to worry about her looks."

Marishka shrugged. "I guess I see the opposite. She should really focus on her image, if the entire Wizarding World is going mad for her." She sank down onto Alena's bed, rolling on her back and holding up the photograph.

"Perhaps," Alena allowed, shrugging and plopping down beside her friend. "In any case, I for one wouldn't mind being on her good side. And that means being on Lucius Malfoy's good side."

"Fair enough," Marishka said, turning a puzzled frown on the other woman. "But...well, come on, doesn't being on any man's good side mean dressing in a...in a specific manner?"

Alena caught her meaning, and she shook her head, smiling. "You mean, shouldn't I use my physical assets to get Lucius bloody Malfoy to give up information, right?"

She shrugged. "And what's wrong with that, Alena Alstair? In fact, I might even give it a go myself."

The expression on Alena's face made both women burst out laughing. "Come on," said Alena. "We've still got a week until the ball. How about we head to the kitchen to see if the elves can prepare one last fatty meal for us?"

"Don't have to ask me twice!"

Marishka and Alena slid off the bed and bounded downstairs, Marishka clutching the article for further gossip.

* * *

><p>Lucius was taking care of last minute Order business before the ball when he felt a sudden pull at his mind, a swift touch that could only be one person.<p>

_Hermione_.

But how could she be in his mind? They were miles apart, and the Malfoy Manor wards wouldn't allow anyone to penetrate his mental barriers like that. Unless-

Unless she was using the brooch he had given her.

He sat up straight, mind racing. She hadn't even mentioned it since the day he had presented her with it; Lucius had thought she'd forgotten, or else didn't wish to use something he had offered in a moment of such tenderness, before the trouble began.

But there it was.

Closing his eyes, he touched the pendant on the silver necklace he wore, and opened his mind to her.

_Yes?_

_Daphne and I are getting ready together, and she wanted me to come early. May I?_

_Of course. I'll be there to greet you when you portkey over._

_Thank you! Just a moment._

Lucius hastily straightened the papers on the massive table before him and swept his hair off his neck.

Honestly, he had been looking forward to collecting her himself. He wanted some alone time with her, time when he could look at her without worrying what anyone else thought.

But no matter.

The wards shimmered; the air thrummed like a beat of some distant drum.

And she was there, landing catlike a few feet from him. He turned to the sound, still seated.

Hermione must have been outside. Pink stained her cheeks and the tip of her nose; light snow powdered her hair.

He touched her cold cheek without thinking; Hermione didn't seem particularly bothered. "Good morning, my dear. Shall I have Teasby send up some cocoa?"

"That would be most welcome, Lucius." Hermione replied, laughter sparkling gold in her amber eyes. She kissed his cheek, and headed for the door.

"What was that for?" Lucius asked, hiding the faint blush with a bemused smile.

She swiveled back, looking pleased. "I read about greeting customs in that book Daphne gave me."

"_A Guide to Ancient Wizarding Customs_?"

"For young girls," Hermione amended. "According to the fifth chapter, it was customary to kiss friends hello."

Lucius bit back sudden laughter. That was true enough-for grown witches and wizards in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It was a bit outdated...but he found no reason to spoil her little game.

"My little scholar. Very well, little one. but let's keep it between us, alright?"

She was already out the door. "Fine. See you soon!"

"See you!" he returned, though he doubt she heard.

Shaking his head, Lucius bent back to his papers, rosy pink still clinging to his fair cheeks.

* * *

><p>The ballroom was already humming with activity when Lucius and Narcissa entered. "Lord Lucius Malfoy, his wife the lady Narcissa," announced the butler, managing to shout in a dignified sort of way.<p>

Nodding courteously at his guests, Lucius took his wife's arm and descended the steps, midst a smattering of applause and greetings. Draco, watching his father's smooth, cold grace, prayed silently that he and Hermione wouldn't slip when it was their turn.

He gave Hermione an encouraging smile, though, if anything, she looked calmer than he was. While she couldn't seem to pull off the frosty Malfoy mein, Draco had to admit the girl was striking in an intriguing way. It was her coloring, perhaps...or the strangeness of her elfin features. Or maybe the shimmering, fiery golden robes she wore, or the sparkling tiara that transformed little girl into little Fae.

They stepped to the top of the stairs. "Young master Malfoy, the lady Hermione Granger," cried the butler.

Draco offered his arm, and held his breath as they made their way down, to his immense relief, without incident.

He was pleasantly surprised at the sight of the ballroom. Each year was a magnificent spectacle of elegance, the talk of the country. Yet this year, his mother had truly outdone herself.

Great white swathes of the finest silk draped from the ceiling like frost, icy blue and delicate white, the colors accentuating the deep rich green of wreaths that hung on the walls. Small globes of soft golden firelight glimmered around and high above them. In each corner rose a pine tree, glowing gentle green and red with holly.

Hermione seemed equally pleased, for she gazed about her in wonder for a few moments before turning to Draco with a wistful sigh.

"Oh, this is _beautiful_. And how lovely those little fire globes!"

"Mother truly is an astounding decorator," Draco said proudly. "She has a great eye for color."

"And the music, as well," breathed Hermione, who appeared not to have heard. "Their harmony is wonderful, the tones so sweet!"

Draco led them across the floor, letting her wide eyes take in all they could. He figured if she saw all she could handle to begin with, he could get her to concentrate more quickly. And she needed to be on top of her game tonight.

Already, she had missed the moment of collected expectant silence when they had been announced. Even now Draco suspected she was failing to notice the people openly gawking at them, not to mention the number of guests pretending not to be staring whilst twirling on the dance floor.

He swallowed. Even he had never before endured such scrutiny.

A voice from behind nearly made him jump.

"Hermione Granger, isn't it?"

They turned and found Gregory Goyle's father, Lord Gordon, and his wife waiting expectantly.

Draco, about to answer for them, was beat to it by Hermione.

"That's me! And you _must_ be Gregory's parents, yes?

Lord Gordon nodded importantly. "That's right. How did you know?"

Hermione laughed, a sweet, open sound that seemed odd midst the formal, controlled crowd. "He smiles just like you, sir. And Lady Goyle, he can only have your eyes."

Draco stiffened. She was acting far too casually with them, in a manner one would with friends or family. Certainly not stranger adults.

But Lord and Lady Goyle were beaming. "It's true," Gordon boomed. "I always said young Gregory would grow up just like his father. Now I hope he takes after his mother in magical potions. Did you know, she's immensely talented."

Draco scoffed inwardly. Lady Goyle, he noted, had fingers like boulders, not at all appearing conducive to excellent potion brewing.

Hermione, however, managed to look surprised without seeming rude. "Oh, that's terrific! I honestly can't wait to try my hand at a little brewing, but alas, I'm rather accident prone."

"Well, it's mostly years of long practice, I'm sure you'll be brilliant, Hermione." Lady Goyle gushed, blushing slightly. "Remember it's all in the preparation."

"I'll remember, Lady Goyle. The science of potion-making is so mysterious, I bet you've read loads of intriguing books and articles."

Draco silently wondered if Hermione knew how rarely the Goyles were singled out for praise, particularly Lady Goyle. Her loud, exuberant, but well meaning husband often overshadowed her, and neither were especially renowned for their talents or powers.

Hermione, asking so earnestly about books, was manipulating the conversation the show the Goyles in the best light, for if she lacked magical prowess, Lady Goyle certainly knew her theories.

Draco watched the three converse happily, listened to Hermione be invited to Goyle Manor anytime, for tea and a look at Lady Gordon's potions manuals. He kept a subtle watch over the gathering crowd of witches and wizards listening to the conversation.

He cringed. Hermione wasn't supposed to dialogue with just one family that night; all their guests naturally expected her to make rounds. That was one of Draco's escort duties for the evening, yet he couldn't find a polite moment to step in and conduct her away.

Yet an older witch to his left suddenly joined the conversation, remarking on her favorite potions professor from her Hogwarts days, and gradually, others began the chime in with their school experiences, notably Lord Macht, who probably knew Hermione the best, having indirectly spent time with her via his son Julian.

Within half an hour, Hermione stood at the center of a large throng, happily discussing her favorite subjects, fashion, books, and food with nearly the entire room. Draco, having been trained for such occasions, found himself admiring her cheerful wit, and the ease with which she captivated her audience.

He searched the faces for the familiar pale, pointed features of his father, and discovered the man observing the scene with a pleased smile.

When he noticed Draco looking at him, Lucius Malfoy winked.

* * *

><p>Narcissa was laughing with a ring of her friends when Lucius found her. He directed a polite glance in her direction, and waited as she excused herself.<p>

"Have we prepared the hors d'oeuvres?"

Narcissa inclined her head. "Of course. I sent the elves over earlier today to pick up the brie from the Ministry, and the olives from Tunisia. Lord Ansrel had Lady Alstair's elves prepare the canapes, since they're absolutely the best in town, and our own chefs are taking care of everything else. Shall I give the signal to send them out?"

"Indeed, my dear. You've done a lovely job, by the way."

She lifted those perfect rosebud lips in a small small. With a quick kiss, she left him to return to her friends, nodding almost unnoticeably at one of the house elves as she did.

When guests began to munch, Lucius felt his heart lighten. This was going better than he had expected. Hermione, while charming, could be somewhat flighty, and he had worried that today might be one of those days.

The evening passed quickly. People still swarmed his Hermione, finding endless questions to pose, everything from her favorite dessert to her thoughts on the Hogwarts Conundrum. After a few hours, the girl had them all under her spell, talking as easily to the high lords of society as she did to the various servants who fired a remark or two into the conversation.

She looked darling. He had purchased the golden brocade for her, and crimson accessories to set it off...even he had to admit, she wore the colors well.

Eventually, Lucius cut in and suggested that the children take a look at the snowy gardens beneath the first moonrays.

Hermione, delighted, glided swiftly out to find her mittens and cloak, followed by a line of eager and glowing friends. Even some adults drifted out, now keen on discussing the girl amongst themselves.

The night was chill, but not bitter cold, and Lucius cast several heating charms on the grounds. The light snow that fell earlier had turned to ice, which glassed the gardens in a delicate frost, gleaming, caught within the silvery moonlight.

Grouped together, rich-colored cloaks shielding their finery, adults began to murmur in hushed tones, no doubt discussing the evening. They watched the children exploring the wintry gardens down the hill, drinking tea or champagne or creme liquers.

A dark-haired witch joined his vigil, eyes bright on his face. He attempted to make pleasant conversation, but felt inexplicably uneasy and distracted.

One of the musicians came out and began to play an eerie, lulling tune on his flute, eyes trained, Lucius thought suddenly, on Hermione, though he couldn't be certain.

He didn't know why it bothered him, for most people had been eying the girl all evening. Perhaps he had indulged in too much drinking; perhaps it was the tune that unsettled him. He forced his eyes away from the musician and focused on Hermione, who seemed to be leading a few of the children out on a walk.

Lucius sent a polite smile at the woman, who was babbling something about wanting to stay in Paris for a month. He passed a hand over his eyes, looked for Hermione again. The girl seemed preoccupied, not even sparing a glance at her entourage. She cast her gaze about on the trail and trees as though hunting some wild thing of the darkness.

A wolf howled, echoing against the moon and returning again to the eldritch night.

He took a step closer, not sure what he was seeing.

Then Hermione, no longer his little bird in fine gold and formalry, took off in chase. But of what? Setting aside his drink and excusing himself from the befuddled witch, Lucius flew down the hill, heart pounding.

Some of the children had tried to follow her, disappearing into the forest, and he at first attempted to find her through them, their heavy panting and loud steps and muffled laughter, joined in haunting harmony with the strange flute from high above them.

But something in him knew they were blundering about his grounds like lost ducklings, aware neither of the danger nor his fear.

So Lucius stopped mid tracks, and opened his senses, let them travel across the forest until he found _her_.

Then, disregarding the branches that tore at his fine robes, the mud that caked his leather shoes, he followed through the wood.

Abruptly, there she was.

Skeletal trees framed her sillhouette in the moonlight, the forest floor bright emerald green here and there with moss, or silvery crystal. As he approached cautiously from behind, Lucius heard her voice.

Except it wasn't her voice, but a strange hissing sound that emanated from her, laced with fury and imperious command in equal parts. Moving closer, Lucius discovered a strange scene.

An immense serpent was coiled around a small animal, a wolf pup from the sound of high, frightened yelping. The air crackled with the same hot energy Lucius had detected on other occasions with the girl, other strange scenes he had stumbled upon.

A thrumming beat down on his ears, and he clasped his head, agony rolling through him like thunder. The girl's face was pale, fingers clenched at her sides, eyes dark with exhaustion, locked in battle with the unblinking stare of the snake. But she was slowly bending the gigantic serpent to her will.

Swaying a little as though hypnotized, the green and black coils began to loosen. And finally, the serpent, with one last reptilian glare at Hermione, undulated away, vanishing into the trees like a dream.

The wolf pup whined hoarsely when Hermione bent down. He was too weak to move very much, but as she stroked his bedraggled fur, stained with blood and ice and mud, the little creature licked her hand thrice, then fell back, eyes closing.

Then the girl scopped him in gentle arms and turned back to the manor, cradling the frozen half-dead wolf pup against her, wrapping them both in her golden cloak.

She seemed entirely unsurprised when she spotted Lucius; he figured she had known his presence the moment he set out after her.

"Will he live?" Lucius asked.

She sent him one of those sphinx looks, her ancient amber eyes glowing softly. "Yes."

It sounded more like a command than a medical evaluation, but Lucius followed her back to the light and weary merriment of the party.

As they came closer, people forgot their conversations and stared openly, and Lucius realized suddenly how they must look.

He was dishevelled, strands of silver-pale hair coming loose from the confining ribbon, his robes glistening with ice and mud. Unheard of in a Malfoy, particularly at a ball.

Hermione fared worse.

The stunning gold brocade was now torn and dirty, her delicate slippers utterly coated with mud. The tiara hung crooked in her hair, along with several dry leaves and even a small spider. A branch had sliced the girl's cheek, and a drop of blood threatened to fall.

And she was carrying a filthy, dying wild animal in her arms.

Self-consciously, Lucius placed a hand on the girl's back and guided her through the crowd unspeakingly. He caught sight of Narcissa's horrified face, and attemted a reassuring nod.

When they disappeared into the manor, Lucius heard the rise of excited conversation, and inwardly groaned. He would have to deal with this.

But for now, he guided the girl to the infirmary, where he ran hot water into a small animal bath in a marble counter, and motioned the girl over. He watched silently as she slowly lowered the pup in, and began massaging life into the tiny furry limbs.

Then, without looking at him, Hermione asked in a small voice, "I ruined your party, didn't I? And my robes..." She couldn't continue.

"No," said Lucius firmly, squeezing her shoulder. "Don't even think about the robes. You saved a life tonight, my little one."

She turned her head finally to meet his eyes. "And the guests? What will they do?"

Lucius let out a laugh, rubbing his eyes. "I suspect people will be discussing this for years. At least you keep things interesting, Hermione."

She sent him a half smile as she rinsed the pup. He had awoken a little, and whined softly, sleepy golden eyes watching the girl. Carefully, she lifted him from the hot water, and dried the pup with a soft cloth.

Noticing the small gash on the animal's side, Lucius fetched an ointment and some linen, and set them on the countertop.

"This should take care of that cut," he said, ringing a tiny golden bell. "And I've just summoned an elf who can show you how to feed the poor thing."

Hermione sniffed the ointment curiously, then raised her eyes to him once more. "Thank you, Lucius. I should also get changed..." She looked down at the ruins of her expensive robes in dismay. "I'm so sorry, Lucius-"

"Think nothing of it, Hermione. I mean it." Lucius drew her into a brief one-armed hug, and turned to leave. "Take care of this one tonight; I'll take care of the guests."

He left her applying the ointment, and went to his chambers to refresh himself and change. And to think on what he would tell the guests. In the end, he decided on something simple.

When he was ready, Lucius glanced one last time in the mirror, and descended the staircase to greet his guests.

The room was still abuzz, but once people noticed his entrance, they quieted.

He raised his hands. "Ladies, gentlemen, may I have your attention please. Now, many of you just saw Hermione and myself emerging bloody and disheveled from the forest. I assure you, we are both unscathed. Hermione had found a dying wolf pup, and sought to save the poor creature. She-"

Lucius spread his arms again for silence in the sudden explosion of voices asking questions. "She is absolutely fine, I tell you, but she will be tending to the animal for the next several hours. She bids you all farewell, and hopes to see you again soon. Now please, enjoy the remainder of the evening, and Happy Yule. Thank you."

He stepped down, and was met immediately by his wife, who took his arm. "We need to talk."

"I know, my dear. I'm sorry how this turned out-"

"Not that," Narcissa cut him off. "Although you two did make a scene. No, I think that our guests will forgive Hermione rescuing a baby wolf quite easily. They are already extolling her compassion and bravery, you see."

Lucius blinked. "Excellent. She did seem to make a roomful of friends...so, what's the trouble?"

Narcissa folded her hands and appraised him seriously. "The house elves. I told you they went to Lady Alstair's home to retreive the canapes. Teasby said the the elves there had caught sight of that article the _Prophet_ printed last week, and were very interested to see the photograph of Hermione."

"Oh? Why?" Lucius asked, confused as to why this was so important. "What were the elves doing with a newspaper?"

His wife waved an uncharacteristically impatient hand. "Apparently, Alena and her friend had left it out. But no matter. The eldest among them recognized Hermione."

He shook his head, not understanding.

Narcissa leaned forward. "The elf said Hermione was a dead ringer for the boy Lord Voldemort!"

Dimly, Lucius heard an echo from the flutist, the odd, keening notes sounding in the air like a howling wolf.

* * *

><p>As always, thanks for reading! More later.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Apologies for the interminable hiatus! I hope you enjoy this one. It's a transition chapter, but so much has happened recently that all the characters need time to digest it!

* * *

><p>Grey, fluffy happiness awoke Hermione; a pink tongue licked her fingers. She caressed the wolf pup curled against her with one hand, eyes moving to her window. Snow fell in great silent flakes outside her window, and she sighed and snuggled deeper under her coverlets, content.<p>

During the winter hols she was more or less free to do as she pleased. Her parents seldom troubled to check in on their strange daughter, so she could practice whatever magics she liked without wondering whether they would burst in on her.

She was aware, to some extent, of her own oddness. She realized early in life that her peers and the adults were troubled by the hours she could spend with her arms circling a tree's trunk, ear pressed against the bark to listen its dreams. Or training her unblinking stare upon a single flower, or conversing cheerfully with the rustling waters of a nearby stream.

Her teachers would crinkle their brows like dried leaves, nudge her towards a nearby ballgame. Once or twice they sent her to the school psychologist, who would, through neatly-steepled fingertips, meet her eyes with all the troubled severity of a scientist evaluating his experiment.

She was so weary of the world.

But now...now she had time to herself. Maybe today she would fly to the ancient caverns of France, peek in on the dark-robed seer hermits there. In odd moments, she caught contemplations of Truth in their eyes, visions of the Worlds as they were. They were kind to her there, perhaps because they saw her as pure Spirit, rather than a little girl.

Or perhaps she would visit her mother, her real mother, bound in shadows and death. She was so lonely there, wings clipped, spirit spent. It made Hermione ache to think of it.

Hermione peered down at the wolf pup in her arms, fingers stroking the soft puppy down on Talbot's belly. He was old enough to meet the direwolf clans in the far north, she decided. They would need to teach him the Wolf Mysteries mysterious even to her.

A sudden grin lit her face. She would invite Daphne and Draco, and Julian. Her own pack.

Ignoring Talbot's protesting whimper, she shifted him aside and sprang out of bed. Catlike, she stretched. Then she bustled to her desk to begin writing what would be, without doubt, the most unusual and intriguing invitation her three friends had ever received.

* * *

><p>Severus had finally finished writing syllabuses for the spring term, and was rewarding himself with further research on Lord Voldemort. No one had ever, <em>ever<em>, to his knowledge, connected Voldemort with a lover, much less a daughter. Could it be that Hermione Granger was, as the house elves suspected, the Dark Lord's own child?

Now Severus considered the matter, it seemed just like Voldemort to procure an heir in secret, like a reflection of himself, a living creature he could trust. Even love.

It might explain Hermione's powers. Why they were so...well, so _vast_. If Voldemort had imbued the child with some of his own Dark Magic, who knew what would happen. Placing such mature magic into an underage witch would certainly produce interesting results. But who was the mother? Was there even a human mother involved?

Severus glowered down at the pages before him, at the untidy scrawl that littered every inch. Then he winced and rubbed his eyes. Merlin's beard, he was too tired even for grumpiness.

The protective wards about his tiny, rickety house alerted him to a man's approach, and Severus groaned and hid his face in the crook of his elbow. He couldn't even summon the acerbic ferocity with which he customarily greeted his dearest comrade.

Said comrade coughed politely at the door.

Severus grunted, meaning to shift the powerful wards that encircled his home. Nothing happened.

Rolling his eyes irritably, Severus waved his hands in the appropriate magical gesture. "Oh, go on then," he grumbled at his own magic. "You know it's only Lucius."

Apparently feeling as sulky as Severus, the wards rolled back reluctantly.

Then the wards projected into his mind's eye a vision of Lucius Malfoy stepping smartly into his parlor, handing his steel-gray cloak and gloves to Frella, Severus' old housekeeper. Still hunched in his study, Severus heard them exchange the usual bantering remarks, then footsteps drawing nearer.

On childish impulse, he decided to fall asleep, and was doing a fairly good job of it until a finger jabbed impatiently into his shoulder, and he snapped awake with a jerk.

"Now, now, Severus, enough with the drama. We have much to discuss."

Stifling a choice remark as to who indeed of the two of them was more prone to drama, Severus finally drew himself upright. He examined his friend warily.

He was handsome, Lucius was, still in his magical prime. His face, like all Malfoy faces, hinted at something Fae, some crossed bloodline way back into ancient generations. It was the slanted cheekbones, likely, or the steady silver eyes, clear and penetrating.

Severus realized with some relief that his friend seemed in much better condition than he had been in recent weeks. Things had been strained between Lucius and Hermione, and that stress, more than anything else Severus had witnessed in his friend, had filtered into the rest of his life. OAN business was put on hold; even Lucius' relationship with Narcissa and Draco had changed.

But Hermione and Lucius had reached an understanding. As charming and charismatic as the young girl was, she hated being the subject of public attention, hated it when strangers gawked at her. When the Wizarding World had become aware of the powerful, powerful child blossoming in its midst, it had caused some uproar. And it had taken Hermione some time to accept that Lucius protected her as much as he possibly could.

The girl had recently been introduced formally to the Dark families at the annual Malfoy Yule Ball. The evening had gone splendidly, as far as Severus was concerned, ending with a vastly entertaining episode in which Hermione gave all the proper Pureblood guests a terrific shock by striding through the party, gown in tatters, hair in ruins, with a tiny unconscious wolf pup cradled in her arms.

Severus smirked to himself. Everyone could do with a good shocking now and again.

Because her power was so very remarkable, and perhaps, Severus realized, because Hermione was so remarkably kind-hearted, even the oldest, noblest, stuffiest Dark families indulged her. It was part of her magic, he supposed. One simply couldn't help but feel drawn to her.

And now Hermione was integrating with Draco and his circle of friends_—_which was constituted of, naturally, children of the most powerful Wizarding families in the world. All was right twixt her and Lucius. Her powers were developing nicely. Everthing was going smoothly.

Lucius Malfoy, looking businesslike and composed and prim in his study, reflected this fact more than anything else, as far as Severus could tell. They were finally gaining a measure of control over the situation, finally coming to terms with the puzzle that was Hermione Granger.

So Severus made some attempt to wake up, to glare at the tall, elegant man before him. "What business?"

"Order business, mostly. And Hermione business," replied Lucius, sliding into the wooden chair across from him. "Though I suppose all business nowadays somehow involves the two. The OAN seemed satisfied enough with her debue. For now."

Frella appeared with tea, disappeared without a word.

Lucius poured. "But there is," he continued softly, "the matter of her recent invitation to the children." He replaced the teapot with infinite care.

Severus, who was familiar with Lucius' grand pauses for dramatic effect, asked dutifully "Oh?"

He watched with mounting impatience as Lucius slowly raised the cup to his lips, took a swallow, then said with utter calmness: "Hermione is taking Draco and a couple others to see the direwolf clans of the north."

Silence. Then: "Direwolves?" Severus repeated faintly.

"Direwolves," Lucius confirmed, looking a touch smug at his obvious surprise. "Our Hermione, apparently, wishes to introduce her new wolf pup to the clans."

Severus sagged back into his seat. "Direwolves. They're meant to be legends, monsters of the past. When I think of the research I could do with them in just one hour..." His eyes began to cloud over.

But Lucius was fixing him with a rather stern stare. "Now Severus, you know this can only be the business of the children. She may take you to meet them later, anyway. But more urgently, Lord Macht and the Lord and Lady Greengrass are on their way to the Manor for tea. And you are are, too."

"I..." Severus blinked, roused from his scholarly musings by this most unpleasant intrusion. "Tea? With Order members? Oh, no no. Lucius, don't make me_—_"

"As much as I know you despise people, my good man, you're one of her tutors. And my trusted advisor. You'll need to be there to give them some sort of vague assurances of the children's safety."

The dark man threw him a wry smirk. "_Hmpf_. You know as well as I that they only want to gloat together that the Wizarding World's newest prodigy has chosen their children as playmates."

Lucius dipped his head in silent acknowledgement. "Indeed. But nevertheless, come you must."

Severus sighed long. "You are insufferable. Just let me fetch my cloak."

* * *

><p>Lord Macht couldn't hide a smirk. Lord Greengrass, who was a diplomat for Wizarding Britain, kept trying to catch Lucius' eye. Only Lady Greengrass seemed at ease, reclining with Narcissa and sharing a pot of tea and crumpets. But of course she would be nonchalant—she was a painter, after all.<p>

"I don't believe anyone has even _sighted_ direwolves for a good couple centuries," Macht was saying pompously. "And Hermione is taking my boy to meet them. Simply astounding, eh?"

Greengrass nodded importantly. "Both your boys and my daughter, Daphne. They've grown fairly close, Hermione and and my daughter, but I suppose the girl needs a good female friend. I told her_—_"

Macht cut in. "Yes, yes, they're all good friends by now, but my point is that this could be a huge discovery for the Wizarding World. Why, we should inform scholars and even reporters. They'll be all over this. This is big."

Lucius saw Lady Greengrass and Narcissa exchange amused looks. While living direwolves were certainly an important discovery, it was obvious that Macht was far too keen on publicity; he wanted to establish his son's_—_and by extension, his own_—_position as a trusted and important person in Hermione Granger's life.

The head of Ordo Aurorae Novae decided it was time to step in. Smiling the familiar frosty Malfoy smile, Lucius addressed the room. "My friends, let us also consider Hermione's wishes. She knows nothing of OAN business, and little more than that of politics. She wants nothing to do with reporters. In her mind, this is simply a fun outing with a few playmates. Why not give her that?"

Macht licked his lips. "I understand, of course. The commoners haven't given her a moment's rest, and she must be weary of all that. I know my boy Julian certainly is." He rolled his eyes haughtily. "But I think the public needs to know that Hermione is fitting into our society, that she's making friends who are, to be frank, very powerful."

Lucius frowned. That actually was a good point. Rumors had trickled out that Hermione was a dead ringer, according to the house elves, for the boy Lord Voldemort. People would be curious as to which side Hermione was on, and if she had any inkling of Harry Potter and that whole mess with the former Dark Lord. Who may well be her father.

This was something even Lucius hadn't considered. If Hermione was indeed Voldemort's daughter, would she seek vengeance against Potter? He couldn't imagine his Hermione attacking a young boy in revenge. But then again...she had done many things already that were well outside the bounds of his imagination. She might, and she might not.

But now wasn't the time to contemplate this. Lucius nodded surreptitiously at Severus, who was scowling in a corner, cupping a large mug of steaming tea.

Even Narcissa flinched in surprise when the deep voice emerged from the shadows. Lucius knew Severus as an eccentric, brilliant, and darkly witty man, who loved too deeply and sorrowed even more; the rest of the Wizarding World, however, knew Severus Snape as the famed and fearsome right-hand man of the most powerful Dark wizard ever known. They knew him as cruel genius, a wizard of terrible potency.

If anything else besides fear, people looked to Severus Snape with respect.

True to form, he had wreathed his face in shadowy anger. His voice, emerging again from darkness, was calm and laced with venemous warning.

"You will not publicize this, Macht. You will not attempt to follow them. You will most certainly not attempt to contact any reporters. Hermione Granger is my top priority now; she is in my care, and that means I know the best what is best for her. Am I clear?"

Both Greengrass and Macht swallowed. Daphne's father even bowed his head, looking ashamed.

Severus continued, more gently. "I know we all want to know more about her. She's a stunningly intriguing child, with stunning powers. But for now, we let the children play amongst themselves. While they still can."

_While they still can_. The words seemed to Lucius, even in the familiar parlour flooded with pale winter sunlight, redolent of burning firewood and pine wreaths and comforting Earl Grey, to take on the deeper, grave sense of prophecy. The room stilled. Each person confronted their own thoughts, both hopes and fears, for the future. Their children were just that_—_children. But in this room of tomorrows and politics and powers unknown, their children were the future, the future of everything they held dear.

* * *

><p>Draco was, unusually, flushed with excitement.<p>

He and Daphne had been bustling around for the past hour, making arrangements with house elves for the journey north. Books lay scattered upon Draco's desk in his study, which the pair occasionally consulted as they discussed what to bring.

"Hermione told me she actually rode on a direwolf's back once," Daphne said, eyes sparkling. "But I think she was younger then, much smaller."

Draco laughed, an open, sweet laugh that made Daphne, for some reason, feel unaccountably warm. "I suppose the direwolves are big enough! Who knows if they'll even let us touch them? I'm just thrilled we're going to _see_ them."

"Oh, Draco!" She sank onto one of the squashy armchairs by the window. "We shall have the merriest time in all the world." He lowered himself down beside her, out of breath and gazing out the window.

There was something about an adventure that brought out everything free and boyish and happy inside him. It made him seem, Daphne realized, as young as he was.

He stiffened suddenly.

She glanced at him in alarm, but he only smiled at her and stood, offering a hand to help her up. "Someone's here. Hermione, probably. Julian said he'd come by a little later."

As she took his hand, Daphne couldn't help but marvel at the change she perceived in him. It was almost imperceptible, but she knew him so well she could read him like she read herself. His features became more serious, calmer and controlled. Draco had assumed his role as the Malfoy heir, and leader of their little group.

Sure enough, a knock came at the door. Draco crossed the room with swift, sure grace, and opened the door to reveal Hermione Granger. He dismissed the house elf escorting her with a wave, then closed the door behind them.

"Hello, you two!" She said brightly. Hermione, too, was flushed pink, though Daphne couldn't tell if that was from excitement or the cold. Perhaps both. She clutched Talbot in her arms, who was hiding as best as he could in her wild curls

She giggled. "Come on, now, you know Daphne and Draco." Gently, she untangled wolf from hair, and handed him off to Daphne.

"He's growing so!" Daphne exclaimed, pleased as the tiny pup gave her hand a little lick.

"Indeed," Draco murmured from behind her. He reached over to pat Talbot, allowing a smile to color his voice. "Any idea how big he'll get?"

"Big, I'm hoping. Big enough to carry two or three of us, maybe."

Daphne, astonished, met Hermione's eyes. "That big? Oh, my." That was certainly something to think about. She resumed her seat by the window, loosing Talbot so he could explore the room. "We were just wondering what the direwolves would look like."

Hermione grinned. "You'll see. Tomorrow. What's all this?" She gestured at the furs and instruments and books strewn on the floor of Draco's normally impeccable chambers.

"Ah, yes," Draco said, clapping his hands. "We've been packing. We assume there's no resort out there_—_" Hermione and Daphne giggled "_—_so we've arranged for tents, sleeping furs, fur cloaks and hats and mittens and socks, a little stove for tea, a few books. The elves are preparing salted pork and venison, cheeses, some hard breads, and Father said we could even bring a little butterbeer..."

He faltered when he realized Hermione was looking confused. "What? What is it?"

"You mean to bring all that?"

"Of course," Draco frowned. "What else do you bring? Did we forget_—_"

But he fell silent when Daphne nudged him gently. When he flicked her a questioning glance, she nodded at Hermione, who was beginning to look a little sheepish.

"No! No, you didn't forget anything. It's more than I ever thought to bring, much more."

Draco exchanged another glance with Daphne. "Very well," he said slowly. "What did you bring when you visited the direwolves?"

Hermione shrugged. "Dunno. I suppose I just went as I was, really. The wolves kept me warm, of course."

They stared at her for a moment, speechless. But they had become so accustomed to her innocently blunt admissions of her own strange power that they weren't silent for long.

Daphne laughed, and pulled Hermione down to one of the squashy chairs beside her so she and Hermione and Draco could spend the rest of the evening happily discussing their forthcoming adventures in the north.

* * *

><p>Word had somehow leaked out that Draco, Daphne, and Julian were accompanying Hermione on her travels for a few days.<p>

"Who told?" Severus had demanded when Lucius showed him the brief article in the newspaper _Higher Tides_.

Grimly, Lucius shook his head. "Macht insists he kept it private, as did Greengrass. The children didn't say anything, either."

"Someone had to, Lucius."

He sighed. "My theory is Abelard, the children's tutor. We can't blame him, Severus," he added when the dark man's lips tightened to a frown. "He had to be told that the children would be out for a few days. Perhaps one of the parents let slip a little too much information."

Severus stroked his chin, scanning the article. "It doesn't say much," he admitted. "But I can't have the entire Wizarding population spreading rumors. We need to give them _something__—_"

"_—_so reporters don't make a fuss at our secrecy," Lucius finished. "I know. But I thought we should discuss it before releasing a report to the press."

"Should we ask Hermione?"

That gave Lucius pause. His brow creased in thought. But not for long; when in doubt, it was always best to consult with Hermione, for he and Severus were learning to trust that their charge, despite being a young girl, was perfectly capable of deciding for herself what was best. "I'll ask her tonight."

* * *

><p>The next day, the Wizarding population was abuzz with the knowledge that Hermione Granger had selected a small, close-knit group of friends to see the direwolf clans of the north.<p>

Scholars nearly gagged at the discovery, but the Ministry, under Lucius' influence, informed them that the beaurocratic work alone that had to be done before anyone could begin research there would take months. While the Malfoy family was often the subject of much public interest, the Macht and Greengrass households experienced for the first time a flood of mailings from curious Wizarding families, reporters, politicians, and scholars.

All were fabulously interested to learn of their close relationships with Hermione Granger, the young girl who had taken the Wizarding World by storm.

Severus had questioned the girl's judgement privately to Lucius, right before they opened the gates of Malfoy Manor to the swarm of reporters outside in the snow.

"I don't get it, Lucius. I thought she didn't want all this, all the attention and speculation. Why would she tell you to let the papers in on their adventure?"

But Lucius Malfoy, as head of OAN, a prominent figure in the Ministry, and a popular politician in his own right, knew very well what the sphinx-like Hermione was up to.

He knew her best, after all.

So he said to Severus: "She's gathering followers, and letting the public in on it. Protection for her. Recognition for the Macht and Greengrass families. And more than that_—_she's telling the Wizarding World the kind of people she values. Scholars, diplomats, artists. She's very, _very_ subtly setting the groundwork for her movement into power. Which won't, of course, come for many years_—_after Hogwarts, likely. But this is her statement to us: a rejection of the safety net we thought to build for her. And this is her statement to the world. This is who she is."

Then the gates to Malfoy Manor opened, and the throng crowding the grounds shifted inside, all clamoring about Hermione, Hermione, Hermione.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Let me know if you like where this is going.<p>

-raggedclause


	11. Chapter 11

One more chapter, nearly a year later...slow going, but I shall press on until the very end!

* * *

><p>Lucius shifted in his sleep. A tumbling mass of color writhed before his eyes; his feet were submerged in water. The air was heavy and thick. A ripple passed him in the water, undulating. He turned.<p>

A heartbeat image pressed on Lucius before he awoke: a man, swarthy and tall stood before him partially enclosed in yellow fog, a wry, monkeyish smile playing about his lips. He winked.

Lucius jolted, nearly fell out of bed.

Where was he? Blearily, he rubbed his eyes, and the familiar curtains of his bed swirled into place, then the furnishings and chamber and windows Lucius could have painted precisely from memory.

He turned. His wife was an early riser, so he wasn't surprised to see that she had already gone. Falling back under the coverlets, Lucius reached back feebly into his mind, recalling the dream. It was so fragmented, however, that he soon gave it up, and summoned Edgar to apprise him of the days events.

OAN business as usual. A council meeting in the morning to discuss the pre-Hogwarts tutelage on the Dark Arts, and in the late afternoon the Ministry expected Lucius to lecture on international magical education. These lectures were fairly standard for Lucius; bringing in hoi polloi was good for the public image of the Ministry, and it was good for Lucius, as a prominent public figure, to be seen interacting with them. That evening—a tiny frown passed over Lucius' face—that evening a wizard from one of the outermost circles of OAN needed to be judged at the Ministry for an infraction.

It was a packed day, but Lucius would do his duty, as always. _Solem ferre possum_.

After washing his face in the pinewater basin by his bed, he drew on robes of thick wool, steel gray and blue, with a severe collar. Edgar combed his thick mane of hair, trimmed it neatly, and fastened it at the nape of his neck with a black leather thong.

Surveying his reflection briefly, Lucius knew he should be pleased with what he saw. He was still in his magical prime, and weekly horseback riding and dueling had kept him in peak physical condition. He was healthy and handsome.

So why did he feel so weary, so...so _distracted_ all the time? Lucius traced his jaw pensively. Why didn't he feel like he looked?

Drifting aromas of tea and toast beckoned him to breakfast. In the mirror, he watched the stern, cold masks fall into place on his pale features.

Lucius wore melancholy like a wintry jewel.

* * *

><p>Draco was accustomed to seeing his father only very briefly at supper. Even though he was not yet eleven years old, Draco was adult enough to realize that his father belonged not only to his family, but to the Wizarding World at large, as an important public figure. He understood.<p>

And besides, it only made Draco more self-sufficient than his peers, and more hungry to please his father.

So he devoted most of his time to his studies and to politicking with his friends, on whom he practised his skills of manipulation and control, and exercised his virtues of generosity and leadership.

After all, their first year at Hogwarts was only a handful of short months away.

In the few spare hours he allowed himself, Draco nearly always sought the company of his dearest friends, Daphne and Hermione, and occasionally Julian. With them, he could thaw his frozen masks, could enjoy debates with equals and jokes with friends.

When Draco awoke on that morning, a day chilly but with a scent of spring, he recalled that he would see them all today. Though his entire circle as well as a few other children of the high wizarding society would be present for a semi-formal midday meal, the thought of snatching even a couple brief moments with the other three refreshed him. A warmth had settled into his chest that lingered even as he began his morning studies.

Hours passed easily. When the bells tolled half-past eleven, Draco set down his book—Lives of the Four Founders—and began preparing. He first called in on the kitchens to see all the food was in order, then changed into more formal robes.

They soon began filtering in, exchanging the informal courtesies common among the aristocratic youth.

Pansy, as usual, arrived first, clad in her fashionable robes and simpering smiles. Tracey and Gregory Goyle arrived next, each bearing baskets of fruits from their parents. Draco smiled a rare smile of pleasure when he saw Daphne and Julian come in together, laughing and pink-cheeked from the wind. Just after them Draco welcomed Theodore, who reached out for a pompous handshake and clap on the shoulder, and finally, Vincent Crabbe, who nodded coolly at Draco, and settled in beside Theodore and Pansy. Others crowded in too, all faces Draco had seen, even if only occasionally, since birth.

The circle spent a few minutes in Draco's study, mingling and waiting for Hermione to arrive.

She was late, and not for the first time.

Draco felt a twinge of unease. He, Daphne, and Julian were familiar enough with Hermione that they took no offense at her lack of punctuality. After a few months, they accepted and even expected it.

After all, for all they knew, Hermione could be in the far North, romping with direwolves. Maybe petting unicorns in some enchanted wood.

But it certainly wasn't a part of the kind of courtesy Draco and his friends expected from one another.

Vincent actually spoke up about it. "So, when are we going to eat, then? We're all famished, I'm sure."

"Patience, patience, Vincie," Pansy teased, clearly wanting to keep a light atmosphere.

But Draco decided to step in.

"I think we have one more guest still arriving, Vincent. Your stomachs will have to wait, I'm afraid." He spread his hands in appeal, smiling a little. "But I think I spotted little Talbot sniffing around our gardens this morning. Why don't we see if we can call him in?"

"Oh!" Pansy squealed. "How big is he? Last time I saw him, he was nearly tall as a—"

But although other members of the group looked interested, Vincent wasn't having it. He sneered: "Well, are we here to eat lunch or to see Hermione?"

There was a momentary silence as the circle stilled. Vince was surly by nature, but he rarely showed his claws so early on—and for so trifling a reason.

The circle focused their attention on Draco, awaiting his response.

Keeping his features calm, Draco spoke with courtesy so icy a couple people sitting nearby actually shivered. "I understand your impatience, Vincent, but I'd like to eat with all my friends present. Do you think you can manage to stifle your basic instincts for just a few more minutes?"

Vince stepped forward with a hint of contained aggression. "I think I speak for a few of us here when I question your..._leniency_ with this girl. She's a muggleborn, for Merlin's sake!" He held out a hand placatingly as a few mutterings were heard from the back. "I know, I know, people think she has some power. But you know, so what? All I'm saying is that she needs to learn how to be respectful of this group, or take the consequences."

Pansy broke in, looking nervously at Draco. "Oh, she's just a little late, Vince. Why do you have to—"

"You said yourself Hermione shouldn't have special treatment! Or don't you remember, Pansy?"

"I..." Pansy looked around the circle for support. "I only meant we haven't known her very long, and...well, why...as Vince said, she's not being respectful."

There was a silence. It was a petty argument, and the entire circle knew it.

Vince took over smoothly. "That's right, she's disrespecting _us_, proper Purebloods, and I will not stand for it. This girl is dismissive of Pansy, isn't she?" Vincent smirked as Pansy nodded, glancing imploringly at Draco.

"And Gregory, what effort has she made to get to know you?" He nodded at Goyle, but the boy stared back, impassive.

Vince turned to Theodore with a look of false concern plastered on his heavy features. "It's not right, Theo, especially when I think of the conventions of etiquette we are supposed to have. You and I were just discussing the lack of manners people show nowadays, weren't we?"

Theo wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. "I...I suppose that's right. Yes, you're quite right, though confess I never thought of _Hermione_ that way..."

But Vince, knowing he was dominating the room fairly well, continued with an ugly look of truimph. "Can you, Draco, look at me and tell me such a lack of common courtesy is acceptable? The girl's a disaster-"

"_Enough_," Draco said quietly. The room stilled.

He had heard Vincent out. The boy had a point somewhere in there, trivial as it was. But the boy was a bully. Draco knew it, the circle knew it. All the same, Draco had to be very careful in crafting his response.

They all knew Draco, Daphne, and Julian had formed a deeper bond with Hermione than the rest of them. They knew those four comprised the close-knit inner circle. Most members of the circle, and most of the other aristocratic children as well, regarded that with simple awe.

News of the young girl had spread very quickly. The public loved her, even as some feared her, as some questioned her allegiance. But what all had agreed on was that she was powerful. She was _different_. Hermione Granger had shown herself to be multifaceted, full of surprises, and unfailingly kind. For Salazar's sake, she had, with no thought of her finery or the formal party she was attending, raced into the mud and trees to save a wolf pup who most thought would die quickly anyway. All were rare enough qualities...but to be seen in one person was extraordinary.

Everyone had flaws, and it so happened that Hermione had some too. But as far as Draco was concerned, and as far as most members of their circle were concerned, Hermione's genuine sweetness and charm alone made up for them.

But Draco had to play his cards very carefully.

If he were too defensive of Hermione, some might take offense and question his motives. If he were too harsh regarding Hermione, others might take that as agreement with Vincent's clearly petty agenda. Or worse, they could think Draco was cowing to intimidation. This was more than a chance for Vince to knock Hermione. This was Vince's bid for control over the group.

So Draco knew quite well how much hung upon his response.

He eyed the other boy with cold interest for a long moment. Then, when the room was utterly silent, when all attention was focused squarely on him, Draco began.

"Unlike many young witches and wizards, we were trained, almost from birth, to behave in a very specific way. We are expected to be courteous and civil among ourselves and to others. Because our families are continuously in the public eye, it is necessary that we strive always to demonstrate such behavior. We must be the ideal.

"Now, _most_ of the time, this means obeying the exceedingly complex system of rules and customs. We acknowledge this system as an important cornerstone of our society and our society's ability to function.

"However, as you all know, this system provide _guidelines_. A road map, as it were, to enable us to reach the virtues of compassion, thoughtfulness, and sensitivity to others' needs. Those qualities are the ultimate goal.

"Who among us has not experienced all of those qualities in Hermione? Who here has ever witnessed an unfair or cruel word to fall from her lips? None of us have. It's true, she wasn't raised with the same customs and the same traditions as we were. Can it be difficult at times, even cause annoyance that Hermione is different? Perhaps. Does it make her a lesser person? Absolutely not.

"I leave you with this: Hermione is _fundamentally_ different from us. Not only her background, but also the way she thinks, the way she experiences the world. She has powers we can't even begin to understand, and she interacts with creatures even our greatest scholars assumed were extinct. Could our ways and rules possibly be just as difficult and annoying to her as her confusion of them can be to us?"

Murmuring broke out from the back. Draco tilted his head as though addressing them personally. It was a subtle gesture, but they quieted immediately.

He concluded: "Personally, for all Hermione offers us—friendship, adventure, yes, even power—for all that, and quite simply because I like her very much, I'm willing to cut her some slack."

Draco surveyed the circle. Some were nodding thoughtfully, others smiling. Vincent, he saw, was looking mutinous, and Theodore kept glancing between him and Draco, looking unsure. But as for the others, Draco knew he had them, at least for now. "Now how about you?"

There was a sudden knock. Draco turned as a petite girl passed the threshold and a soft feminine voice asked, "Am I late?"

* * *

><p>Erick Madroth was a cunning man. He had been careful, played everything perfectly, and he would have continued getting away with what he was doing, if it weren't for some low-life Ministry jerk who got a little too nosy.<p>

Erick was close, so close to achieving his goals. He had been a few months away from triumph, all to have it snatched from his fingers.

His only solace was knowing that the others would continue his work.

He stared up at the ceiling of his cell, wondering how many prisoners had bothered to count the stones. His trial would be tonight. To be judged by _them_ was...unthinkable.

Power-hungry fools.

They thought they were so clever, playing little games with their politics. What they didn't understand was that power was only _power_. And when his friends succeeded, that's exactly what they would have. In abundance.

A key turned the lock. Erick stirred with interest. Several impassive guards approached and conducted him, compliant as a puppy, to a dim but clean receiving room.

Must be a pre-trial information meeting, he guessed.

The guards pressed him into a seat at a wooden table in the receiving room. Erick smiled cheerily at them as they bound him fast, but they remained unreadable. He could move his fingers a little, but his legs and arms were paralyzed. A sixth sense told him charms had been placed on that room to diminish his magic as well.

But of course, if he had had the time to complete his experiments, he would have put an end to _that_ easily enough.

Three officials entered and took seats across from him. One woman, a lean and sinewy brunette, with eyes bright and restless. Erick, lip curling, guessed she was the auror who had caught him. Imagine: caught by a woman!

There was a pudgy, watery-eyed man who was looking faintly bored. Some beaurocrat, probably. And the third man...

Well, Erick knew the third man well, although they had never met. Who in Britain didn't know Lucius Malfoy, head of the Ordo Aurorae Novae?

He actually liked the man on sight. Malfoy was entirely unreadable. While he didn't show the burning, snapping energy of the auror, he also lacked the dull and glazed-over sweaty sheen of the other man. No, if anything Malfoy's expression was cold...but Erick sensed a vitality and fierce intelligence emanating from the man.

Good. Someone worthy of his attention.

One of the guards spoke up in a gravelly voice. "State your full name."

He focused his attention on Malfoy. "Erick Bernard Madroth."

"Proceed."

The woman levelled her burning gaze on him. "We're here so you can add any remarks before your trial. These gentlemen have been briefed on the issue, but would like to hear what you have to say."

Erick cocked his head to the side. Stupid female, pretending to be all in control of him.

He sneered, and staring at Lucius Malfoy alone, he began.

* * *

><p>During lunch, Pansy was feeling increasingly uncomfortable.<p>

It wasn't necessarily that she disliked Hermione. The girl was sweet and everything. Pansy just couldn't understand why everyone was making such a fuss about her.

After all, Pansy was the one female Draco was close to. Well, except for that Greengrass girl, but everyone knew she was kind of weird. She never cared about keeping up with all the latest fashions, as a proper Pureblood witch should. All she did really was..._read_.

But then this Hermione girl had come from _literally_ nowhere, and suddenly she expected Draco to be besties? From what Pansy could tell, the girl had probably either bullied or flattered Greengrass into following her around. And Julian was smitten, everyone could tell. Likely because Hermione was the only one who bothered to talk to him.

And poor Draco had to keep the group together. It was his father's orders. He was always so polite, so kind, he could never be cruel to Hermione and her little gang.

He was almost too good-hearted to take charge.

Draco had even made a nice little speech about Hermione earlier, defending her. _Defending_ her! Vince had even made some really clever points.

It was time to stop letting this Hermione take control of things. Pansy would watch out for Draco...she always would.

She watched Draco now, with his perfect fair hair. Like King Arthur surrounded by his knights.

Except he was smiling and applauding with the group as Hermione placed an appleseed into an empty fruit bowl and, having made a show of concentrating very hard, caused the seed to take root and sprout in front of their eyes.

Stupid party trick.

The girl clapped with delight, and even offered one of the new little golden apples to to house elf serving them. The house elf!

She was _so_ embarrasing.

But all because Draco's father insisted that they make friends, the whole group laughed and clapped with her.

Pansy would think of some way to free Draco from that witch.

She would.

* * *

><p>Erick allowed himself a pleased grin when the officials left him. They made the mistake of thinking him more of a nuisance than a threat.<p>

Especially that foolish female.

When he acknowledged that he was experimenting on witches to suck out their power, the witch had glared at him with barely-suppressed rage. Pudgerton had rolled his eyes.

But Lucius Malfoy had, though his expression hadn't outwardly changed, betrayed a hint of interest. Erick had seen it.

It confirmed that Malfoy's interest in little Hermione Granger was more than a passing fancy.

When he saw the two interacting in Diagon Alley, he had suspected something was up. Lucius Malfoy, buying gowns for little girls? An obvious attempt at _some_ kind of seduction.

Clearly, he wanted to use Hermione Granger for some end.

The first thing that came to Erick's mind, of course, was that Malfoy wanted her power. Who wouldn't? She was a little wellspring of the stuff, any wizard with half a brain could see that.

Once his friends rescued him from prison (Erick had no doubt that he would be convicted, and he certainly had no doubt that his friends _would _rescuse him) perhaps he would try reasoning with the man.

Malfoy was a bloody aristocrat, for Merlin's sake, but that didn't mean he was useless.

* * *

><p>Supper was a quiet affair. Lucius enjoyed it, the peaceful couple of hours with his wife and son. His family.<p>

As he cut into his steak, he listened as Narcissa asked which were Draco's favorite theories on the four founders of Hogwarts.

"Hmm. That's difficult because we have so few facts to work with. Alber Machtenian wrote a fantastic article hypothesizing that Salazar had fallen in love with Godric's wife."

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully. "Why does it make sense to you?"

"Because all evidence suggests the two were close friends. How could they be so close if Salazar and Godric were on opposite sides of the Muggleborn issue? Or if they already knew they were on opposing sides, how could they fall so quickly into hatred? It seems far more likely that their trouble was a personal matter."

"You're forgetting that these men lived in a very different world than the one which we inhabit. Muggleborn witches and wizards were not yet such a hotbutton issue."

Draco frowned in concentration. "That's true. But I..."

Lucius let his mind wander as his wife and son exchanged ideas. Draco was an intelligent, thoughtful young man. And sometimes, when his eyes sparkled with excitement, as they were now, he was reminded of Hermione.

The wizard that had been on trial that night had spoke of sucking out a witch's power. It reminded him uncomfortably of that time the wizard had ambushed Hermione outside her school.

What was it Hermione had said to him? _You want to steal my powers_...

Even more troubling: the man on trial that night had suggested there were others, others like him who would continue their work. Lucius remembered the way the man had looked at him, as he sat in the seat of the accused. Not quite challenging, but more..._inviting_.

Odd.

Lucius didn't doubt for a moment that Hermione couldn't handle herself. She had proved that on a number of occasions. That's not what troubled him.

Hermione's powers had their limits. Right?

There was nothing she _hadn't_ been able to do, when she chose.

On the other hand...everyone, everyone had weak points in their magic. Lucius swore then he would find out. Somehow.

Trouble was, what if someone discovered those weak points before him?

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. As always, I want to know what you think. Want to see more or less of anyone?<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks to all who read a reviewed last chapter. Special shoutout goes to zeeksmom for some excellent feedback.

* * *

><p>Talbot was growing very quickly, and he was obviously very pleased with it.<p>

It meant he could reach his jaws up to a doorknob and open it, making his girl squeak with surprise.

Or, as he was doing now, it meant he could bound up to the top of Hermione's wardrobe and snag the treats she kept there for him.

Well, he was trying. Difficult to jump and aim at the same time.

Talbot snorted as he knocked over a small potted basil plant that was perched on the window ledge. Soil scattered everywhere, and he sneezed.

Not his fault, his girl shouldn't make the treats so hard to get at.

Talbot was so intent on his task that he missed the sound of Hermione's return.

He didn't, however, miss her exclaimed "Talbot!"

The pup gulped and peered over his shoulder. There she was, school bag in hand, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Talbot, Talbot," Hermione scolded gently. "Trying to get at your treats again, hmm? And what have I told you about eating too many? They're not good for you."

Talbot hung his head and whined softly. He peeped at her under his lashes, raising a paw in supplication.

He knew he was adorable, and he had no qualms about using that to his advantage.

It worked, too. "Oh..._you_. Come off it, already." Hermione held out her hands, and Talbot rushed into them, sniffing eagerly and trying to lick her face.

Shaking her head but unable to keep from laughing, Hermione threw herself onto her bed. She scratched his ears and let the pup settle comfortably beside her.

"You are getting big," she mused. "No wonder you want to stretch your legs. We should find someplace to let you run free. Hmm..."

Hermione closed her eyes in concentration. She sent her magical awareness into the air, flying swiftly over the neighborhood and past the crowded city streets. Lingering over forest and field, Hermione forgot to keep petting Talbot.

He snuffled into her hand in protest, but Hermione, immersed in her magic, shushed him absently.

Now she saw country and hills not yet alive with spring. She drifted for a time. _A place to run and hide and chase_, she thought. _Somewhere that will soon turn lush and green, somewhere full of magical secret_s...

A forest gradually made itself aware to her. Hermione dipped in and found traces of all manner of beasts wild and magical. To her surprise and delight, little pockets of the forest were bright with flowers in full bloom, and sun that sparkled gold like summer.

_Must be some ancient kind of magic_..._how_ lovely...

Hermione swiftly returned to her body.

Talbot had fallen into a light doze. Shaking him gently, she whispered "Talbot. _Talbot_! Want to go play? I found a lovely spot to run in."

His eyes opened. Play? Running? With Hermione?

He jumped down immediately and stretched, stuffing his snout under her knees and playfully dragging her from the bed in impatience.

She giggled. "Just a moment! I'll see if Mom and Dad are home."

Hermione found her parents in the den. Her dad was working quietly on some paperwork, and her mum was searching through cookbooks for recipes.

Her father looked up sternly when she made a timid approach. "Back already from school?"

"Yes, father."

"Are you making friends?"

Hermione bit her lip. She _was_ making friends...just not at school.

But how could she tell her parents she had befriended witches and wizards miles and miles away?

The last time she had hinted that, her father had become angry and demanded she stop telling tales.

Her parents became cross anytime events odd or magical came up, really.

So Hermione smiled blandly and told half truths, since she knew it would please her father. "Yes, Daddy."

"And you're keeping up at school?"

"Yes, I am."

He turned his attention back to his notes. "That's good to hear, Hermione. Now run along and play now. Be a good girl. And take that dog with you too, keep you both out of trouble."

Her mother said nothing.

But Hermione did not dwell on that. Free, she sprinted back to her room. Plunging into her closet, she emerged clad in the wonderful russet cloak Draco had given her.

She glanced at her pup, who cocked his head.

"Ready?"

In answer, Talbot jumped into her arms, and with a rustling _woosh_! Hermione whisked them away into the secret wood.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore hummed, moving swiftly along the path around the Lake.<p>

The snow was finally clearing around Hogwarts. The grounds, long asleep, were coming awake. He ducked his head so the pointed blue patchwork hat he wore wouldn't be knocked off by overhanging branches.

There were some downsides to being so tall.

Term was going well this year, Albus mused. Students were no more or less rowdy than on previous years. Well, except for the Weasley twins.

Albus couldn't hide a grin.

They had charmed Mrs. Norris to make baby goat sounds. Argus Filch had chased the poor creature all over the castle before he finally caught her, still bleating with all her lung's might.

Those two. He would have to think up a suitable punishment, not too grisly, but enough to show they—

A magical presence interrupted his train of thought.

A new..._energy_ had entered the Forbidden Forest. At first, Albus thought it was a bird, for it was moving very fast.

He frowned. No...no, it was definitely human. A witch, perhaps?

Albus let his own magic, a blue stream, flow out through the wood, seeking...

Not a witch at all. Just...just a little girl.

Understanding flicked into Albus' mind. _This is Hermione Granger_.

He felt an answering strain of fire respond to his querying magic.

Astonished, he pulled back. Had she really perceived him? Impossible. But he had heard she was very powerful. Albus stretched forth his magic once more, this time in invitation.

She answered almost immediately.

It wasn't long before Albus sensed her light step approaching from the wood. But before he got a look at her, a warning growl came from the shadows before him.

Albus peered closer. Huge teeth met his eyes, and a long and lean wolfish body.

The pup she had saved. He had heard of the incident. But how had he not detected the wolf? But before he could pursue that question, a light feminine voice emerged behind the wolf.

"Talbot, calm." She placed a hand on the wolf's neck, just below the skull, and caught Albus in a piercing amber gaze.

Albus collected himself switly and smiled benevolently at the girl. "Hermione Granger, is it? A pleasure to meet you."

Hermione moved closer as though enchanted, drawn by an unknown calling. She held up her unarmed right hand level with her face and said solemnly, "Hail, Mage."

Albus paused a heartbeat.

This particular greeting was a very formal, very ancient custom that was standard between two wizards or witches of alien or even opposing clans.

But he returned her greeting in like form.

Albus raised his arm like hers and intoned. "Hail, Witchchild." She had an enormous amount of curly hair, he noticed. It probably made her taller by a good few inches.

They brought their raised fingers together and spun round each other once, keeping a locked gaze all the while.

When the ritual was complete, Hermione cocked her head as though surprised at herself.

"You are Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Her voice, Albus thought, was sweet to hear. It reminded him of _something_, though he couldn't quite grasp it.

He inclined his head in a small bow, taking the opportunity to ascertain that the wolf was staying out of biting range. He was...but his wary gaze never left the old wizard. "At your service." He fished in his pockets and found a little bag of magical caramels, which he offered her.

Hermione accepted with a gleam of childlike pleasure. When she bit in, the caramel, similar to the non-magic sort, pulled into a long string of candy. But this magical variety exaggerated that feature, and left Hermione pulling so much from her lips that she had to coil the caramel into a large spool.

Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. Then she began to giggle.

Albus, realizing it was her first time with that particular sweet, laughed as well.

Hermione somehow managed to speak with jaws nearly cemented shut. "I didn't know there was a path here. Show me the way?"

Albus courteously offered him arm. She accepted with sly sugary grin, and they set off.

"I didn't realize we had strayed so close to the castle," said Hermione casually, as though it was perfectly normal to Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds. "Talbot gave me quite chase."

"I am sure he must. You know this _is_ the Forbidden Forest."

"You're inside it," she pointed out reasonably. "How forbidden can it be? Besides, I'm not yet a student."

Albus swallowed a smile. "No, not yet. Would it have stopped you, though?"

"No," she replied with a bubble of laughter. "It's so _beautiful_ here. So many kinds of magics all wound together. Like one of those beautiful tapestries in France, the ones with the unicorn. No...that's not quite right. Like—what are they called?—the Portuguese man o' war."

"Tentacley?" Albus guessed shrewdly. "Venomous? Not tasty?"

"No!" Hermione repeated, laughing. "I mean...multiple living components that together construe one being."

"Ah! A colonial organism."

"Yes, yes! That's it. I was reading about them in one of Lucius' books. Did you know some kinds of octopus aren't affected by their venom, and will carry round bits of broken-off tentacle as a kind of weapon? And—"

A greatly enthusiastic Hermione carried on about her favorite sea creatures, entirely oblivious to her companion's spinning mind.

Albus realized he was surprised for the third time. More than surprised. Utterly flummoxed.

Most people—including the majority of his teaching staff—simply saw a forest full of magical creatures. They never guessed the forest itself was something close to a magical, sentient creature on its own.

But even more than that, he was completely unprepared for what he had discovered in Hermione Granger.

He had heard from Severus that she was good. Right to the core, that's what he'd said.

He had followed her in the papers, noting her scholarly interests, and her kindness towards animals.

He had read that the girl was tied at the hip with the Malfoy family. She was more powerful than any witch or wizard that had been seen in a long time.

Merlin's shortbread, there were some who believed she was the Dark Lord's heir. Or even his own _child_.

So naturally, he'd expected a suave little politician, a mirror reflection of the Malfoys. A gigantic ego along with the intellect. A force that, perhaps would need to be contained.

Instead he was confronted with a tiny little girl that could only sometimes be seen underneath a mass of bushy hair. Though the books she mentioned and the knowledge base she was apparently building were far, far beyond that of a normal child...her energy and excitement were that of a young girl.

Her sense of wonder at the world was vast and enthralling.

And at the same time, she had initially introduced herself with strange ancient customs of which most wizards had never even heard.

How intriguing.

Hermione was still chatting excitedly when the castle came into view, lovely as a fairytale.

She trailed off and gazed, awestruck. "_Hogwarts_," Hermione breathed. "My ancestors knew this place."

Albus sent her a quizzical glance. "I suspect that, with the exception of muggle-born students, most of our ancestors here in Britain did. Would you like to come in?"

The invitation was impulsive. Albus wondered swiftly what exactly he would do with her once she was inside. He was _very_ curious to see how Hogwarts would react to the girl...

But Hermione was shaking her head. "Thanks, but I've got to run home for dinner." She pulled a sour face. "Kale and chicken. I'll come back again if I may."

"You'd be welcome. It's a bit unorthodox, but you _are_ planning to attend in a few months, yes?"

"_Yes_."

Albus took a breath. For a moment, years lifted away and he saw a young Tom Riddle before him.

He narrowed his eyes. What was that?

Her answer was strong, almost too strong to be flat. But she was, for a heartbeat, entirely unreadable. Was that...was that truly a glimmer of the boy Lord Voldemort he had seen? He couldn't be sure, but he thought a kind of hungry desparation had flickered through her eyes.

Eyes that were so like Tom's...

How had he missed it before? It was subtle, but the bone structure in their faces was similar. Even the long shape of her limbs, petite though they were, reminded him of the friendless and ambitious orphan Albus had once known.

But their demeanors were entirely opposite. Where Riddle was ice, Hermione was fire. There was a sweetness in her heart that Albus could sense immediately.

Perhaps he was reading too closely into this. Perhaps it was simply apprehension that had flickered over her elfin features. Perhaps...

No matter.

All these thoughts passed through Albus' mind like lightning. And he showed no sign of them on his face. Instead, without missing a beat, Albus pointed a long finger to Hagrid's hut a couple hundred yards away.

"Our gamekeeper Hagrid lives there. Pay him a visit when you can, and tell him I sent you. I think you'll enjoy each other."

Hermione looked the hut over briefly, and Albus wondered if she had thought all magical people lived like the Malfoys.

But the girl only nodded. "Thank you. And it was nice meeting you, Mage." She held out her small hand for him to shake.

"A pleasure, my girl." For a moment their eyes met squarely, and Albus thought once more of the boy Tom Riddle. Then the moment passed, and Hermione was dancing away, muttering dark things about eating kale for dinner.

Albus Dumbledore watched her disappear into the Forbidden Forest, silent wolf loping after her.

Within moments, her fiery magical presence had faded from his awareness, and he continued on the path to the castle. Well. What a peculiar encounter. Much to think about.

By the time he made it to the doors, Albus was wondering idly if there would be treacle tarts for dessert tonight. He did love treacle.

* * *

><p>Lucius found himself actually looking forward to taking a trip to the tidy muggle neighborhood. It never ceased to amaze him.<p>

But after all, he thought with a shiver of anticipation, it wasn't exactly the neighborhood he was interested in.

What enchantment did she lay over him, he wondered. Why did his thoughts, even swamped with OAN business or even in the quiet of his family home, almost always gravitate towards Hermione Granger?

It was because she was the best hope for the future of the wizarding world, he told himself. Because she was so powerful. Of course that was it.

She was waiting for him when he arrived on her parents' street.

Although there was still a chill in the air, he could see that Hermione was sitting cross-legged on a meager patch of grass that had managed to grow, twisting her fingers in her lap.

As Lucius drew nearer, he felt an emotion that was not his own wash over him. As though she scattered her feelings like feathers in the air.

Automatically, he added that bit of information to his Hermione file.

But his mind beat with the more troubling realization: she was unhappy.

The moment Lucius voiced the thought to himself, Hermione looked up, sensing his presence. She smiled at him so brilliantly that he thought he must have imagined it.

But when he held a hand out to pull her to her feet, Hermione pretended not to see and scooped herself up without meeting his gaze.

As Hermione finally faced him, however, Lucius saw her expression was carefree. She greeted him with her usual kiss and asked him about his day, about Draco, about what he ate for lunch.

As they began walking out of the neighborhood, Lucius went along with it, despite the little anxiety that gnawed at his heart. And he soon put it from his mind: Hermione was her usual bouncy, chattery self.

She was in full flow describing her adventures in the Forbidden Forest when she suddenly interrupted herself, changing the subject without warning. As she did often. "Where are we going, anyway?"

Lucius blinked. "Ah. Diagon Alley. What say we fetch you a wand?"

"For Hogwarts?" Hermione gasped. "Yes, yes, yes! Oh, I've been wanting one. I've actually been practicing waving my hands correctly in the mirror," she confided, "But I always look ridiculous."

"You? Ridiculous? Well," said Lucius with a sly grin. "As I recall, not too long ago you were wearing a sheet bound with a clothespin for a cloak. Now!" He held up a dismissive hand as Hermione scoffed in protest. "Now, I'm not saying a clothespined cloak is ridiculous. I'm just reminding you that it happened."

"Actually," began Hermione, raising a pompous finger in what Lucius had to admit was a fairly good imitation of her old tutor Hogarth, "The clothespin has been used for precisely such purposes since the pixie uprising of the thirteenth century, when those _bloody_ blue creatures stole and hid all the brooches they could find..."

Lucius was doubled with laughter by this point, and Hermione was giggling so hard she could scarcely continue.

The two had stopped by a field. A ray of sunlight had struggled through the early spring clouds and buried itself in Hermione's hair. Lucius, looking down at her strange, almost-beautiful elfin features, realized that he was happy. He felt as though a weight had been lifted from him.

Still chuckling, he reached down to pluck a stray curl from her face. Their eyes met as his finger brushed her cheek. Hermione beamed up at him.

_Men will someday fall to their knees before such eyes_, Lucius thought, and a cold anger flickered through him without warning.

Lucius quickly pulled back his hand, looking around them. No one was in sight. "Ready to Apparate?"

"More than," Hermione replied. Lucius gripped her fingers and with a _pop_, brought them to Diagon Alley.

Everyone knew there was ony one place to find a decent wand, and that place was Ollivander's Wand Shop.

The two strolled through the cobbled streets in companionable silence. It was loud and crowded enough so that they weren't recognized, and the two enjoyed the anonymity, brief as it was likely to be. Lucius couldn't tell whether Hermione was apprehensive, as young wizards tended to be, about finding her wand. But she made no comment, and he wasn't keen to press her.

Mr. Ollivander was examining a wand when they opened the door to a cascade of notes in a chord.

"Let me see...cherry wood, ten and a half inches. Nice and swishy. And the core..."

He looked up immediately when he heard the door chime, and Lucius saw his great, moonlike eyes fasten at once on Hermione.

She smiled a birdlike smile. "Mr. Ollivander," she said in shy greeting, with a slight dip of her head.

"I wondered when I would see you, child. Come closer," Ollivander said beckoning. "I've waited a very, very long time for you."

Lucius watched feeling slight unease. What did _that_ mean? Hermione obediently drew closer, and allowed the old man to peer intently into her face.

"Yes, yes," he was murmuring, running hands down her arms. "Just as I thought. Watch that left elbow when you fly, you have a tendency to lock it..."

His scrutiny was so keen that Lucius felt it was time to break it up. "I think it's time you measured and fitted her, Mr. Ollivander."

For the first time, the man turned his pale eyes to Lucius. He paused. Then, for some reason, he seemed faintly amused. "Ah yes, of course. Hermione must be measured." He chuckled, absurdly, and sent Hermione a wink.

Lucius wished he could see Hermione's face, but her back was to him as she faced Olliander. He moved in smoothly behind her and waited patiently as Ollivander drew a tape and took down measurements, this time hardly even sparing the girl a glance.

But Lucius saw it.

He managed to wait until Ollivander disappeared into his shelves, calling behind him "I'll just be a moment, wait there..."

Then he rounded on Hermione.

"Hold out your hands, please."

Hermione, who had been smiling, tensed. "What's the matter, Lucius? I—"

"Hold out your hands," Lucius interrupted firmly.

Her eyes flickered to the exit, which was just a few paces off.

"Now, please." Lucius said.

For a moment, he thought she would disobey. But then Hermione pressed her lips together. Slowly, she raid her hands, palms up.

Lucius loosed a long breath. Her palms were covered in thin welts that were already deepening from bright red to a nasty, bruised purple.

"_Hermione_," he breathed, sickened.

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

Lucius knelt before her and covered her small hands with his. "What happened?" He asked, and an unusually hard note in his deep voice caused Hermione to meet his eyes.

"I...that is, my..."

Mr. Ollivander, still in the back and oblivious to what was unfolding in his shop, called "Still searching. I'll be just a bit longer..."

Hermione turned her head to his voice, but Lucius took her chin in his hands, forcing her to look at him. He waited.

"My father," Hermione finally whispered. "He was displeased, so..." She nodded down at her hands as though that offered an explanation.

"Why was he displeased, Hermione?"

This time Hermione refused to look at him. "My teachers told him I never play with the other kids. That I only read during playtime."

It was a struggle to keep his tone gentle. "And so he struck you?"

The girl managed a tiny nod. "He thought I was lying to him, when I said I had friends." She examined the dark bruised flowering over her pale skin. "I'd heal it myself, but Father gets angry when I do, says he must not have been strict enough. And he does it again."

Though he fought to keep calm, Lucius' voice had a steely, biting edge. "He shouldn't hurt you."

Hermione looked up. "It's okay, really, I disobeyed..."

But Lucius shook his head coldly. "No."

They heard Ollivander approaching.

Hermione peered at Lucius, biting her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Lucius gave his head a firm shake. "Don't be." He put an arm about her and pressed her briefly against himself. "We'll talk later. Now I want to to be excited about your wand."

Hermione bit her lip and smiled.

* * *

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